Harry Stidolph and the Blood in the Library
by Galatea Griffiths
Summary: After surviving last year's hectics, Harry Stidolph believes that the worst is over when he returns for his second year at Hogwarts School. However, he is soon proved wrong when students start turning up paralyzed in the corridors, and Harry himself dives into the mysteries the ancient castle has to offer.
1. Chapter 1

_June 20th, 1992_

This was it. Dumbledore was sure of it. Tonight, Harry Potter, the previously unaccounted for Chosen One, will be revealed to the Wizarding World, and he will rejoin Dumbledore and the others in the Light. On the eve of the Summer Solstice, too. It will be a night to remember for all who are present.

"Dumbledore!" The old man turned to see his long time colleague, Cornelius Fudge, walk over with a big smile on his face, though Dumbledore saw concern where others saw merriment. The Minister took Dumbledore off somewhere and began his lecture: "This summer has been tiring for all of us. Harry Potter has not been found thus far...anywhere. People are getting worried and need comfort. This is the perfect show to give them comfort. Calling upon Harry Potter with your magical link to him is brilliant. I'm not the only one who thinks so. But, Albus, if this fails in any way, you do realize that the consequences will not be solely from the Ministry." Dumbledore looked around. There were the Weasleys, with their youngest children Ron and Ginny sitting in front. Ron waiting for his best friend to appear, Ginny for her future husband, as was decreed by Dumbledore at each of their births. If Harry Potter does not show up tonight, then Albus knows he'll have a fiery dragon named Molly Weasley coming after him.

Albus could also see several family friends of the Potters, either of the father James, the mother Lily, or both. He knows that the arrival of the Potters' son is long overdue now, and they didn't sacrifice all they had during that war for nothing. Ron and Ginny will see him. The family friends will see him. It will happen. Albus leaned in close to Cornelius.

"I thank you for your concern, Cornelius, however, you need not fear. Trust an old man that he knows what he's doing." As usual, Cornelius sputtered, trying to find the right words, but Albus doesn't have the patience like he normally has. Not tonight. Tonight is where all of his plans will unfold, regardless of Harry coming around a little later than originally planned.

The full moon had officially risen above the eastern mountains, and Albus took this as his cue to walk close to the center of the platform where the ritual will take place. The platform is wooden, constructed specifically out of the finest alder, ash, and cedar that their sources had to offer. In the center of the platform was a perfectly drawn pentagram in white chalk and surrounded by various symbols for protection of the caster and the one being summoned.

_If this works,_ Albus thought, closing his mind immediately to any curious Legilimancers, _then Harry Potter will soon be standing in the middle of that pentagram_. Albus looked up and saw that the full moon was almost directly above him, thus, Albus took his place and stood the correct pose, waiting to begin.

The appearance of the full moon directly over them was sounded by the beat of a drum in the distance, which became Albus' cue to begin. Albus began casting all of the necessary spells, and as he did so, he proclaimed his chant:

"_The one who was lost, must now be found._

_The Boy of Gold, bring him to me._

_Let him appear, let him be crowned._

_So mote it be, so mote it be."_

At the end of the chant, nothing happened. However, the people were not going to give up hope yet, and kept their focus on Albus alone as he quickly went through the spells and the chant multiple times. If Harry Potter does not appear in the middle of the pentagram before the full moon's hour is done, then the people will know that Dumbledore has failed. Yet, they still pay close attention – to Dumbledore and the pentagram.

An hour passed and the drum beat, signalling the failure. Yet Dumbledore pressed on and the people with him. Another hour passed, and the drum beat again. At this time, the outsiders began to disperse quietly, dissappointed that their celebrity had not shown. By the time the drum beat for the fifth time, mostly everybody had gone home, exhausted. Even Molly Weasley took her two youngest by their hands and dragged them home, hoping to give Dumbledore a piece of her mind another time.

As the sun rose indicating the summer solstice, Dumbledore finally stopped casting. Minister Fudge, who had been there the entire time, took this opportunity to step out onto the platform.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, Albus," Fudge asserted, sounding completely earnest. "I know how much the boy meant to you." Albus said nothing in return, thus Fudge continued, "But now we know: Harry Potter is dead." Fudge released a sad sigh and wandered off, wondering what his old mentor will do now.

Dumbledore only watched the sun rise, unbelieving that so much time has passed, and yet, nothing had happened. He looked to the pentagram, the symbols, and inside his own mind, trying desperately to figure out what went wrong. It's not that Harry truly is dead, because he isn't. Dumbledore is absolutely sure that he is not dead. How could he be? He was meant to come to Hogwarts starving of attention and love and receiving it, all the while giving just as much, if not more. But the evidence truly does point to the obvious. However, Albus does have a way of knowing...Harry isn't dead, not really.

_But if he isn't dead_, Albus mused as he descended from the platform, _then where is he?_

**A/N:**

** Since I'm not going to be here Friday, might as well get the party started now! As normal, I do not own HP or anything pertaining to good ol' J.K. Rowling! Please R&R and save a drink for me! Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	2. Chapter 2

_June 21st, 1992_

Harry wasn't going to admit it, but right now, he was nervous. Not because of his dapper outfit or his friend Draco invited him, but because this was another whole kind of wizarding society; something he's not quite sure he's ready for. Nevertheless, he couldn't refuse such an invitation. The Malfoys were kind enough as to loan the small group a carriage so they can arrive like any other rich family, something that Harry deeply appreciates them for. On their way to the home of their flamboyant hosts in Wiltshire, Richmond kept talking and explaining to Harry and his friends all the details:

"The driveway isn't just a straight path to the Manor. No, you must turn right and then you see the impressive iron gates of the impressive abode. Yew hedges surround you everywhere, yet once you go inside the Manor that's where the real embellishment begins. A large fountain, elaborate gardens, and diamond-paned windows are the very first things you see. And furthermore–"

"Richmond!" Penny snapped, annoyed at her mate. "Enough of your nervous jibber jabber. Let the young ones discover the Manor for themselves." Embarrassed, Richmond shut his trap with a small "Sorry, Dear" at his wife. Harry, who sat between his parents, once more endured the torture of his mother brushing out his hair.

"Mum, I'm fine, I look fine!" he mumbled, but Penny wouldn't have it. To be fair, though, Harry admitted that he'd never looked more handsome then he does now. Simple black dress robes donned his fit figure, his single-breasted jacket hugging him nicely, and his golden cummerband matched his golden cufflinks. Penny tucked Harry's shirt into his cummerband once more, to make sure that Harry doesn't look like a fool, and this time it was Richmond's turn to scowl.

"Penny, the boy looks fine." Penny only frowned at him and tested her small bun to make sure it stayed. Dressed in a sleek black and white empire dress with a white tulle halter and a golden satin belt around her waist, she looked simply and gorgeously elegant. Harry smiled at remembering the day Penny bought the dress with his trust vault money (not that Harry really minded, in fact, that's how the werewolves could afford the nice clothing). Richmond made a bet with her that day that she was going to be the most beautiful woman at the celebration – regardless of her non-magical status. Harry couldn't help but agree with his adoptive father.

Richmond is dressed in a similar outfit as Harry, in fact, Penny joked that they looked like older or younger versions of the same person. It stung the man's pride but he knew better than to argue with his wife's sense of fashion. Selene, Phoebus, and Adam, sitting across from the Stidolphs, looked just as nervous as Richmond felt, and Selene expressed this by bouncing in her seat.

"I wonder who we'll meet at this party! I'm so excited, I can hardly stand it!" Harry smiled knowingly at her, and Penny winced as Selene almost tore a hole in her new dress from the bouncing. Selene, like Penny, is wearing a full length dress. Only, instead of a halter, she wears a scoop neck dress of silver satin and a small ballgown of red tulle underneath. The whole dress is covered in red lace with a red belt around her stomach. Phoebus, on the other hand, dons the color of green in his outfit. Dark gray jacket, pants, and bow tie with a green cummerband with matching green cufflinks. The specific color reminds Harry of emeralds.

"I just hope we won't meet anyone too...disagreeable," Phoebus tried to find the right words, and his attempt did not go unnoticed.

"You and me both, young one," Richmond smiled at Phoebus comfortingly, and Penny also put on a dazzling smile.

"But let's not worry about that right now," Penny gently reprimanded, "After all, the point of this celebration to have fun; and if there's one thing I know about the Malfoy family, it's that they know how to have fun." Harry smirked at Penny's comment for, knowing Draco, she couldn't be more correct about the rest of the family. Adam suddenly began to laugh, though he tried to cover it up with the sleeve of his basic black and white dress robes.

"What's on your mind, Adam? Anxious to meet someone? And here I thought you were satisfied with Hunter." Adam blushed at the mention of young Irene's name, and his hand went to his heart out of habit, where the haphazardly made celtic knot pendant lay. Adam recovered, though, and explained,

"No, I was thinking about a possible prank we could pull on someone if they're being hairy hearted."

"You will do no such thing," Penny's eyes were briefly aflame. "This is the first time werewolves have ever been invited to a gala such as the Malfoy's annual Summer Solstice Celebration, and I won't have a measly prank keep us from keeping in the family's good books." The boys shrugged, but Harry made the signal that he and Adam will continue the discussion later. Adam nodded to show he understood as the carriage approached the iron gates of the luxurious Malfoy Estates.

* * *

"Richmond! Penelope! Welcome everyone!" Lucius Malfoy, decked out in his usual fancy attire was the first to greet the incoming group. After the brief greetings were over, Lady Narcissa Malfoy came over and gave the adults each a glass of wine.

"It's imported from Greece, the godly wine makers of the world!" Narcissa shared cheerily as she drank a sip. Penny laughed and followed her friend's footsteps. Lucius spotted the children following the adults closely and began to shoo them off.

"Draco is around here somewhere, with Pansy Parkinson and the like. Look around young ones; you'll find them soon." With that, the exuberant Lord Malfoy whisked Richmond away to the nearest bar to toast to Richmond and his family's good health. Harry sighed in annoyance – are all adults this bonkers over a silly little beverage? Nevertheless, he did as Lord Malfoy offered.

"Come on guys, this place can't be that big right?"

Oh, how wrong he was. And with not that much room to swing a Kneazle, Harry and the others were having a difficult time getting through.

_The least I could have done was keep my big mouth shut_, Harry thought regrettably as a rather lofty man swung around in front of Harry and landed in a pool of (what else?) wine.

"You'd think that this kind of gala would be a lot more...oh I don't know...not so crazy?" Phoebus asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as much as the fountains of alcohol are spurting alcohol.

"Not really," Selene explained, her tone as a matter-of-fact, "The Summer Solstice is always a gay time for witches and wizards. It's one of the few events where we can live about freely without any fear of breaking the Statute of Secrecy."

"The what?" Adam asked dumbly, over the noise of the party.

"The Statute of Secrecy is an age-old document stating we can't practice magic in front of muggles or in places where muggles could spot us." That drawl could only belong to one person. The group turned around to find Draco Malfoy, his platinum blonde scalp slicked back into a shining beacon, and his dress robes looking every bit as elegant and outrageous as his father's. Draco's all-knowing smirk made itself plain on his face as he greeted each of the group.

"We were starting to think your dad lied about you being here. We were about to take Cadogan's pony and leave," Harry joked as he was greeted by the youngest Malfoy. Draco smirked at this comment, as if his smirk wasn't big enough already, and he casually replied,

"Well, if you're going to leave, the door's right over there. Otherwise, I can take you to a safer environment."

"Safer?"

At that exact moment, one of the guests came barreling through one of the diamond paned windows on his broomstick, yelling gibberish and the like. He continued this pattern for a few good minutes before literally bouncing off his broom and splashing into a different pool of white wine.

"Yes," Draco responded solemnly, "Safer. Come on, you lot, and don't lag behind!"

* * *

Draco took them out of the main ballroom and into a smaller area. However, just because it was smaller, doesn't mean that it was any less extravagant. Large silk banners, donning the Malfoy family colors of green and silver, draped the carved walls. The walls themselves depicted several scenes which Harry guessed came from Greek Mythology. One displayed the kidnapping of Persephone, goddess of spring, and another depicted the birth of Dionysus.

_How appropriate for the occasion_, Harry thought dryly.

Harry and his friends aren't the only guests here. Like Lord Malfoy said, Parkinson is here (though Harry would rather touch her with a ten foot broomstick), along with Crabbe and Goyle, as well as the Greengrass sisters. Daphne, the oldest and in Harry's year, wears a simple royal blue ballgown with white diamond embellishments in the shapes of the Fleur-De-Lis all over, and her dark brown hair up in a neat bun. She is accompanied by someone who can only be Daphne's younger sister, since the two look so much alike. Dark brown hair, even longer than Daphne's, is caught in a messy braid that ran all the way down her small frame. She skips around in her silver dress with a dark blue waistband and a large blue flower on the side, giving her a much more youthful look.

"Dr. Livingstone and friends, I presume," Daphne joked as she was one of the first to greet the incoming children. Though he never interacted with her personally last year, Harry's always respected Daphne's lighthearted humor, for not only is it rather uncommon for a Slytherin, but can also insult the person in question very much so. A good tactic that Harry hopes to learn.

"Summer homework hasn't been too hard for you, Daphne?" Harry asked politely after their brief greeting.

"Not at all, though I can't say I probably did it as well as you, Harry." If Harry wasn't so quick-minded he would have easily fell for Daphne's flirtation. Nevertheless, Harry gave his classmate a smile of acceptance and moved on to sit on one of the many comfy chairs in the room. Selene, who was so bouncy and smiles two minutes ago, suddenly became extremely shy, especially when the only seat left was right next to Daphne. Harry watched as his friend slowly made her way over to the Slytherin girl and she quietly cleared her throat.

"Hello, Selene," Daphne greeted fleetingly.

"H-Hello, Daphne," Selene addressed quietly. She smoothed out her dress nervously. "M-may I sit here?" At Daphne's nod, Selene immediately sat down on the luscious, padded seat and began listening in closely on Daphne and Pansy's newest conversation. Harry glanced around and noticed that Phoebus is rather confused at Selene's behavior, only to shrug it off and continue chatting with Malfoy about quidditch.

"What do you think, Harry?" Draco asked determinedly. "Phoebus here says that Krum, the new seeker of the Bulgarian Quidditch Team, might have a chance to uphold to his predecessor's statistics. I think he's too young. What do you say?"

"I say that we let him play and whatever happens happens." At Draco's obvoius annoyance to his politically correct answer, Harry added, "But if you want an actual prediction, then I think Krum'll do just fine, despite his age." Draco rolled his eyes so much, Harry became worried that his eyes will get stuck at the back of his head for a fleeting second.

"Well, come on, Draco," Phoebus argued, "If a sixteen year old wizard can pull off a Wronski Feint and get out of it without a single scratch, then you have to admit there's some talent there."

"You actually believe those rumors, Grint?" Draco challenged, his grey eyes flaming with provocation. Phoebus only shrugged.

"Call me a dreamer."

_Apparently it runs in the gene pool_, Harry thought amusedly.

* * *

As per tradition, the party could only last during the day. Fortunately, it became a lot more fun as Harry spent more time with partygoers his age, and Draco had been a good host on top of all that. At last, the party ended as the sun set, and all of the legal wizards and witches drank one last glass of champagne to toast to their lives and to a new year.

Harry and his friends couldn't drink champagne, so instead they drank bubbly. Some of the others complained about this, but Harry didn't mind. He's in no rush to grow up. Thirsty still from the kids' games of Wizard's Chess, Quidditch in the Malfoys' personal quidditch field, and Exploding Snap, Harry was able to down the whole drink in one go, surprising everybody.

"Who knew you had it in you, Harry?" Adam asked, half joking, half in awe. Harry only shrugged.

"You can come back and visit, you know," Draco offered as the werewolf party began to leave, "Not like I want you here or anything." Harry smirked.

"Merlin forbid you have friends." Both Slytherins joked and, after making small plans in the school year, the four of them went onto their borrowed carriage. Selene was the last to get on.

"I suppose I'll see you in the fall," Selene offered to Daphne. Daphne offered her new friend a warm smile.

"Of course, see you later, Selene." After a brief hug, Selene climbed aboard the carriage and the group went home. Harry could have sworn, after they parted ways, that Selene went into the adolescents' tent with the biggest smile on her face that Harry's seen on her so far.

**A/N:**

** Yay! I'm so glad a lot of you are excited about this sequel! Don't worry, I've got good stuff coming, and it's only going to get better from here! As usual, I don't own anything pertaining to HP, and please R&R! Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	3. Chapter 3

_July 31st, 1992_

Harry's birthday was celebrated with much less drama than last year. However, it was certainly not lacking of love, and Harry is perfectly content with that. Among receiving presents from adolescents, gammas, and pups alike, Harry also received the same gift from his parents as last year – train tickets to London, which meant another trip to Diagon Alley. This year there were seven tickets: one for Harry, Phoebus, Selene, Adam, and of course, Harry's parents. But Harry looked at the lone ticket left, confused.

"Did you guys get another one by mistake?" Harry asked. Penny shook her head.

"We'd like to get shopping done for Melanie while you children are enjoying yourselves," Penny explained to her confused child. "I hope you don't mind too much." Melanie's smirk was so disgusting that Harry could barely stand to look at her, for it was that smug and that vain. Phoebus and Adam could barely hold in their annoyed grumbles, but they did for the sake of Harry and for the sake of their Alphas.

Once he was finished getting ready for the 10:00 train, Harry stepped outside the Alpha tent and surveyed all that happened around him.

There were seven tents in total that were under the Lunae Tristitiam Tribe's care: each one for the different rank of werewolf and the all-important medical tent. That meant the pups have a tent, the adolescents (where all of Harry's friends stayed), the gammas, the Beta female, the Beta male, and of course, the Alpha tent. The only reason the Betas have seperate tents is so that the Beta female can teach her pups and adolescents without the Beta male to distract her, and so the Beta Male can come and go freely from the medical tent without any distractions himself. Harry smiled at the magic each tent possessed as well, for it was so strong that all the werewolves could feel it in the air. Of course, the tents have their standard enlarging spells for the inside of the tent, and so on, but each tent also had its special magic depending on who stayed in it. It's not a large camp by any means, but so long as they're safe and they're happy, Harry could care less about the size.

Once all seven of the travelers were ready, they all met in the middle of camp where a large firepit lay. A lot of the couples in the camp came here to have some alone time or the pups and adolescents came here to roast marshmallows for s'mores, the latter being a tradition that started when Penny was introduced to the tribe as a werewolf. It didn't occur to Harry that she wasn't born a werewolf, and before he could ask more, Penny gave him another marshmallow.

But that was a different night, back when he was ten. Now, the supervisors Penny and Richmond (though Richmond is the only one who can apparate) apparated all seven of them to the nearest train station a little over an hour away. It wasn't easy, and there is no Side-Apparation for two or three other passengers, thus the people already at the station had to wait until everyone had arrived. Then, it was off to the train and their trip to Diagon Alley, something which Harry thinks will become a tradition itself soon enough.

Once they arrived in London, the group took the same route they took last year to get to the Leaky Cauldron, the well-known bar which served as a good connection between the muggle world and the wizarding world – for those who knew about it, anyway. It can only be seen by wizards or witches, thus keeping the Statute of Secrecy well in check. The barkeep, Tom, raised a glass in respect to the group as they passed through the bar to get to the entrance.

Diagon Alley, after the brick wall had magically opened itself, hadn't changed at all since the last time Harry came one year ago. The place was hustling and bustling with shoppers, whether they be wizards or witches, half bloods, muggle borns, or pure bloods. Speaking of pureblood, Harry noticed a head of neatly combed over platinum blonde hair not too far away, and with Phoebus and Adam, wove through the crowd to get to the Malfoys.

"Bugger!" The cry alerted Draco's parents as well as some other nearby shoppers. However, the spectators saw that it was a measly prank and the Malfoys smiled in nostalgia and welcome at the three werewolves. "You really have to make an entrance, don't you?" Draco grumbled as he collected himself from his scare. Harry was the first one to stop laughing.

"No harm done, Draco, just some good old fashioned pranks." Draco humphed at Harry's reply before handing him a neatly wrapped parcel. Though he had been friends with Draco for a year now, Harry was still somewhat cautious as to accepting the gift, for you never know a Slytherin's ulterior motives. Carefully, Harry took it and examined it. It was wrapped in all silver paper, with a gold and black ribbon on top – the latter colors being the Stidolph family colors.

"You're supposed to open it," Draco joked as Harry had not yet made a move to open it. Harry only rolled his eyes and did as he was told. If Harry's jaw could drop to the floor, then it would have.

A wand holster – made out of pure leather, deepened to a dark brown color. It was made to wrap around his leg, and was so lightweight Harry could barely feel it. His initials 'H.S.' were engraved on the outer side of the holster with a small black gem between the 'H' and the 'S'. The outside rims of the holster and the loops for his leg were engraved with different magical symbols – each one, Harry realized, different but that didn't hinder to its beauty. There was a pentagram, an ankh, and so many others that Harry couldn't tell all of them right at the moment. The symbols themselves also changed colors continuously, shifting whenever Harry moved it.

"I..." Harry could barely speak at first. "I don't know what to say." Draco's smirk was all-knowing.

"You're welcome," Draco commented, to save Harry the embarassment of his lack of vocabulary. Harry and Draco shook hands, as a hug is considered inappropriate among the Slytherins, and then Lady Malfoy engulfed him.

"Happy Birthday, little Stidolph!" Narcissa proclaimed loudly, "I hope you like the gift."

"It's beautiful, thank you, Lady Malfoy," Harry confessed. Lady Malfoy beamed at his compliment and his gratitude. Richmond and Penny had caught up to them at this time, and after the usual greetings were given, Lucius offered for the two groups to travel through Diagon Alley together, which the others happily agreed to.

So the group of seven grew to be a group of ten, but Harry didn't mind. The more the merrier. The students themselves went off to different shops and the like for school supplies. Then, they went to a clothing parlour that Draco suggested for a much needed improvement on their wardrobes, as befitting Slytherins or Ravenclaws. Harry likes his new cloaks especially. Comfortable, with special heating or cooling charms for the changing seasons, and a growing charm for his growing length. Harry's shortness isn't so much of a problem anymore, thankfully.

For lunch, the group went to multiple restaurants for samples, before finally stopping for dessert at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, for a birthday toast to Harry himself. Harry toasted to the family and friends before him before wolfing down his own ice cream.

Their happy times were short-lived, however. While browsing around in Diagon Alley, Melanie called the others' attention to a wanted poster – for Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf terror of London.

"It's a shame, really," Lucius commented sadly, "Fenrir used to be such a bright schoolmate. Now look what society's done to him...made him into a monster."

"I don't understand," Adam confessed. Penny gave a sad sigh in reply.

"Not all of the wizarding world accepts werewolves kindly, you know this little ones." At this, all seven children nodded in understanding.

"It didn't always used to be that way. At one time, werewolves used to be respected as well as feared. Now society's corrupted the public view so that werewolves have to go into hiding, possibly for forever." Harry looked up and noticed that there is more sadness in Richmond's eyes as he said this than ever before.

"That's why we live in tents, isn't it?" Harry asked sadly, "It's because we can't get homes or even one consistent place to stay." Penny nodded. Draco scowled.

"This is what the so-called Light wizards have done to us," he muttered so only the group can hear him, "Made us into fools."

"Us?" Melanie asked, confused.

"The Malfoys have always been a Dark family, little one," Lucius explained gently. Melanie accepted this calmly. Phoebus suddenly puffed out his chest.

"Just you wait," Phoebus promised, "When we're big, we'll make this world better for everybody – werewolves included." Richmond laughed.

"I can't wait for that day to come," he assured before the group fell into a depressed sadness again, just gazing mindfully at the wanted poster. Draco poked Harry with his elbow.

"Come on, let's not waste time over this. I've got something to show you, and trust me, it's going to make your day." Thus, Draco led the way, followed by Harry, Phoebus, Adam, Selene, and Melanie. The adults stayed behind, possibly to go get a drink at the Leaky Cauldron to cheer up their thoughts.

"What is it, Draco?" Melanie asked, who knew better than to act her usual bratty ways to the Malfoy heir.

"Remember when I told you I was at Flourish and Blotts earlier today?" At the other children's nod, Draco continued, "Well, apparently, there's some event going on at the bookshop, all over the most fake, dishonest, and vain man you'll ever meet."

"You?" Phoebus asked, jokingly. Draco glared at Phoebus before continuing,

"No: Gilderoy Lockhart."

**A/N:**

** Not a lot of stuff happening here, just Diagon Alley part 1 just like in the last story. Anyway, please R&R, and I don't own anything pertaining to J.K. Rowling! Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	4. Chapter 4

The event that Draco mentioned is actually a book-signing, hosted by none other than the infamous egotistical author himself. Harry gagged at the sight. All the author had to do was flip his hair a certain way, and the women in the bookshop would sigh and croon to his every whim. Looking around, Harry could see that his friends felt the same way about the famous visitor. All except Selene and Melanie, sadly. They gazed at him with nothing but adoration in their eyes, and Phoebus glared at Melanie. Harry would have snickered if not for the loud annoying voice ringing in his werewolf hearing.

"Yes, yes, thank you all for coming, my adoring fans," Lockhart began, making Harry want to puke. "I would love to sign all of your books for you, books containing..." There was a pregnant pause in which Lockhart dazingly smiled at the crowd in front of him, "...my adventures." There was a loud swoon from all of the girls in the bookshop, and Harry rolled his eyes. If this guy isn't some sort of reincarnation of Narcissus, the egotistical idiot, than Harry would honestly be very surprised.

As Lockhart continued rambling on about his endless love for his fans, Harry and the rest did their best to obtain their necessary books. As they did, they happened upon the books for Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was confusing to say the least. The list required five books...all about Lockhart! Is this some kind of joke?

"Lockhart is an international explorer and adventurer, you know," Melanie quietly explained, so that she doesn't talk over her idol, "He's so brave."

"Yeah, about as brave as a gopher," Phoebus joked a little too loudly. Nevertheless, Harry and the other boys couldn't help but laugh, drawing the attention of none other than...

"Bless my soul." The group looked to see Lockhart looking at them. Not just them, though. Lockhart was looking straight at Harry. Oh no, he couldn't possibly...

"It's Harry Potter!" Before anyone could say a word, Harry was dragged to the front where Lockhart waited. "Ladies and gentlemen, what a momentous occasion!" Lockhart proclaimed happily. "Two celebrities in the same shop, ha! Who would have guessed? And young Harry's timing here couldn't have been more perfect, for I, Gilderoy Lockhart, have a momentous announcement to make. From this year on, I shall be taking the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Harry paled. This idiot was going to teach them? Hogwarts' curriculum is doomed! What is Dumbledore thinking?!

"And," Lockhart continued, "I shall be giving Harry his own Lockhart series...free of charge." The audience gave a tremendous applause, but it stopped shortly when Harry slammed down the books onto the floor.

"You ignorant buffoon!" Harry called, turning on Lockhart angrily. "I'm not Harry Potter!" Lockhart began to laugh, but upon gazing at Harry's clear forehead, his laughter soon died down.

"Oh...well, don't worry son, the books are still free!" With that, the dreaded pieces of literature were forced into Harry's grasp once more and he was pushed back into the crowd. "And I'll see you at school!" Lockhart called, his charismatic nature winning, once again, over the public, the mistake clearly forgotten. Draco shook his head with pity.

"You'd think people would want real literature. Ha, the stupidity of mankind these days." Adam nodded in sympathy.

"Next thing you know, there'll be a series about... I don't know...sparkling vampires, or something like that." The group shuddered at the thought. Meanwhile, Melanie began browsing around the store on her own, abandoning the group as she went to look for the Lockhart series as well. Through the different shapes of wizards and witches alike, it was easy for the first year to find the glorious display of the rich and handsome author. However, it wasn't so easy getting the last set.

"Give me it! I saw it first!"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"You're the one who's being ridiculous!" At the sound of Melanie's high-pitched voice, the small pack rushed over to find Melanie fighting a girl her age. This other girl left a lot to be desired in the beauty department: red tangled hair, freckles, muddy brown eyes...wait a minute. Harry internally groaned. Not another Weasley.

"Ginny, what's going on?" Speaking of beauty. Harry unknowingly smiled at the approach of Marielle Leclair. Her dark red hair is slightly longer, framing her porcelain face nicely, and her silver eyes are alight with curiosity. Harry's heart began beating just a little faster. Marielle's reaction, on the other hand, seemed a lot less loving. "Stidolph," she greeted coldly.

"Watch who you're talking to, blood traitor," Draco growled. Marielle snarled at Malfoy before turning to the (hopefully) youngest Weasley child.

"I grabbed the last set of the Gilderoy Lockhart series but this..." Ginny failed to find the right word. "This _girl_ went to grab it from me."

"Oh please," Melanie argued, her dark brown hair falling out of its ponytail from the struggle. "Like I would want to steal anything from _you_. You have nothing I would want. My hands were on that set first, you little brat." Ginny gaped at Melanie's words and Harry decided now would be a good time to step in.

"Melanie, before we're kicked out of the one and only bookshop in Diagon Alley, may I remind you that one should pick their battles wisely." Melanie looked as if she was about to protest, but finally caved in to her leader and only growled at Ginny. Harry turned to the other girls and smiled honestly at Leclair. "Now then, shall we settle this diplomatically?"

At that exact moment, the bookseller came between the groups and levitated more sets of Lockhart books onto the display shelf. Harry blushed in the embarassment of the timing while Leclair smirked in victory.

"Come on, Ginny," Leclair put an arm around the younger girl and they began to walk away. "Let's not waste any more time with these miscreants." Harry scowled.

"Excuse me for trying to be a gentleman," he snapped. Leclair only looked back and stuck her tongue out at him. Childish, but it still provoked Harry quite a bit. He started to go after her, but was stopped by Phoebus.

"Hey, Harry, don't worry about it, okay?" Phoebus guided Harry away from the crowd while Melanie collected her own set of books. "Leclair's a harpy anyway." Harry's only response was a smirk and his own arm around Phoebus. They began to walk out, followed by the rest of the pack, when suddenly a man stepped in front of them.

"What did you just say?" The man is tall, and would be threatening if he was anything like Quirrell or Voldemort. Thankfully, he only looked furiously protective. "What did you just say about my daughter?" Harry's eyes opened wide. This must be Leclair's father. Harry sized him up. He is definitely getting on in his age: platinum blonde hair like the Malfoys dulling to a light grey, and his eyes that were once silver now flattened into gray palettes.

Mr. Leclair was followed by two other women: one clearly his wife, for she looked as old as he, with thinning red hair and light blue eyes that scruitinized everything she sees. The girl must be their daughter. Older than Harry by a few years, she pulled back her strawberry blonde hair into a bun like her mother's before giving the younger ones a small smile. Seems Marielle's older sister has a different idea than her parents.

"Young man, you ought to know better than to insult a girl," the older woman scolded, "It's not like a gentleman."

"Oh, don't bother, Demetra," warned a batty voice. Mrs. Weasley came into the conversation, tugging the same girl from before (Ginny or something like that) behind her like a little girl with her doll. "That's Harry Stidolph, that is," Mrs. Weasley explained, "Biggest sort of trouble you could find. Clearly his parents don't know how to raise children."

"My parents are actually doing a fine job, thank you very much," Harry sneered, "My parents don't let me act like a brat." Harry's eyes darted to Ron Weasley who was not too far away. The matron immediately caught on and gasped in fright.

"You see? What did I tell you!" The Leclairs (except for the girl) shook their heads in shame.

"Terrible," Mr. Leclair agreed.

"Mama, Papa!" All heads turned to see Marielle run to the group. "I finished my shopping and...oh." Both Harry and Marielle immediately initiated a glaring contest, with neither willing to give up. Phoebus groaned in exasperation. Clearly he wanted to get out.

"Look, it wasn't Harry who called your daughter a harpy, that was me," Leclair caught her breath at that, but her gaze was still on Harry. "Now if you'll excuse us, we'd like to be around decent people and not judgemental idiots who don't know the first things about decency." Everyone besides the young ones gasped, giving the group of children the chance to leave. Phoebus tried dragging Harry along, but it was no use. Demetra swooped over to her daughter and pulled her away.

"Marielle, I want you to stay as far away from those troublemakers as possible, do you understand?"

"Yes, Mama," Marielle obeyed obediently, and thus the glaring contest was finally broken. Mrs. Leclair nodded in approval and took both of her daughters away, Mr. Leclair following his family. Mrs. Weasley was about to follow them but was intercepted by Lord Malfoy. However, Harry couldn't give a darn about their conversation at the moment and left the bookshop, almost failing to notice Lucius picking up Ginny's hand-me-down books with disdain before giving them back to her as if they were diseased.

**A/N:**

** A quick chapter, but fear not, more (and better) chapters to come! What did you guys think of Lockhart? As egotistical as ever, right? As usual, please R&R, and I own nothing except my OC's! Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	5. Chapter 5

_That evening..._

Harry packed his new luggage in his new trunk once. Then unpacked and packed again, just to make sure. After the re-packing, Harry went through everything on his list:

New wardrobe and all of his bathroom necessities (the latter he'll pack in the morning)

His textbooks (even the terrible Lockhart books, only because they were necessary)

Potions items (cauldron, various ingredients, etc.)

Herbology items

Hedwig's food and her brush

Conrad's journal from his eleventh birthday (maybe he'll get to use it this year)

Books from his personal library (so he doesn't get too bored in school)

Fortunately this new trunk featured a bottom-less charm, otherwise Harry has no idea how all this stuff would fit into one space. His packing done, Harry grabbed his wand and went down into the kitchen. Is carrying his wand around important? Probably not, but better to be safe than sorry.

The kitchen has seen some massive improvements from last year. Thanks to Harry Potter's Trust Vault, all of the werewolves in the Tribe have been able to afford better living, such as more access to better health care and the like. It's helped them tremendously. The new kitchen is something that is trivial that the Stidolphs could actually afford. Instead of copper, there was the new stainless steel stove, oven, even a microwave and a refrigerator. The frail wooden counter from before was now replaced with a clean granite countertop. Harry ran his hand along the smooth surface as he entered the kitchen, about to help Penny make supper.

"Anything I can help with, Mum?" Penny turned, her usual white apron with little cherries on it adorned, and her dark red hair up in a small ponytail. She smiled upon seeing her son but shook her head.

"I've got it all covered here. Why don't you go outside for a bit? It's not every day we get to camp in a forest outside of London." Harry nodded at her advice and passed through the upgraded Alpha tent-home to open the tent flap and exit the abode.

Once outside, Harry felt the brisk summer breeze penetrate his skin to his muscles. It felt nice, but it also felt a little cold, and Harry wished he brought a jacket. Too late for that now, though, so to warm up instead, Harry started jogging. He began jogging through camp and admired his surroundings. This is the time of day when all the wolves are to go into their respective tents to eat their supper and then tuck in for the night; however with summer still in the air, it's a bit harder to go to sleep. This proves to be true especially for the pups. Harry smiled as one of them scoops up a lightning bug before setting it free and then attempting to catch it again.

Once finished jogging through camp, Harry began jogging outside of the camp borders. Normally it wouldn't be safe for such a feat, however Harry is feeling a little adventurous, and thus, he stepped outside of the magical border. It'll only be for a little bit. What could happen?

_**"Ouch!"**_ The cry almost sent Harry running into a nearby tree, but he settled for falling to the ground instead. Harry recovered quickly and was about to get up when he noticed a small garden snake climb up his leg. _**"What's the big idea, huh? Just because I'm small, you think it's okay to step on me? Huh?"**_ Harry only blinked. Is this snake actually...talking?

_**"You know what, I'll show you! Ha!"**_ The snake reared back her head, about to bite down on Harry's knee, when Harry stopped her.

_**"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on there! I'm sorry, I just didn't see you."**_ Now the snake looked surprised.

_**"You...you can understand me?"**_ She sounded similar to a child, and acted like one as well, her fangs immediately retracting themselves as the youngling looked up at Harry in confusion.

_**"I guess so. ...Is that bad?"**_ Harry sat up so that he was more comfortable, all the while making sure he didn't disturb his companion too much.

_**"No, at least I don't think so. I've just never met anyone who can understand what I'm saying before." **_

_** "Oh. Well, sorry about earlier. Are you seriously hurt?"**_

_** "No, you just stepped on my tail."**_

_** "What's your name?"**_

_** "Huh?"**_

_** "Do you have a name?"**_

_** "What's a name?"**_ Strange. Harry never really noticed how animals don't think of names. Does Hedwig know she has a name?

_**"It's something that you call yourself and what others can call you. For instance, my name is Harry."**_ The snake coiled back as if the idea didn't appeal to her at all.

_**"That's weird. You humans are weird."**_ Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing at that comment.

_**"You have no idea."**_ There was a pregnant pause there, but shockingly, Harry didn't mind. He was enjoying this talk, as weird as it was to talk to a snake. Fortunately, however, the snake didn't look like she minded either.

_**"So how is it that I can talk to you? Or do you know?"**_ The small reptile looked at Harry as if he grew two heads.

_**"Of course I know, all snakes know! It's something that's called Parseltongue that some humans possess. Not a lot, though, just a selective few."**_ Harry tilted his head a little.__

_** "How did I get it then?"**_

_**"I don't know! I'm only seven!"**_ Harry's eyes bulged.

_**"You're only seven years old?! You act a lot older than that."**_ The snake responded by preening herself a little with pride, making Harry want to roll his eyes. _**"Anyway, do you know who might know?"**_

_**"My mother probably knows. She knows everything. When I was an egg, she'd tell me all sorts of stories about wizards and witches and magic and stuff. She's really cool."**_ Harry smiled in relief. Maybe he'll get some answers.

_**"Great! Is she nearby?"**_

_**"No. She lives very, very, very, very, very far away now." **_Harry's smile immediately vanished. He should have known it would have been too easy. Suddenly, the snake crawled up from Harry's knee close to his head. It was all Harry could do not to move even an inch.

_**"What are you doing?"**_ His dubious nature was answered with the snake's hissing in his ear.

_**"I've decided I like you, and I want to bond with you."**_ Uh...what? Harry looked over to the snake who looked at him expectantly.

_**"I'm sorry but you're going to have to explain it to me."**_ The snake rolled her eyes in annoyance. Are all humans this stupid?

_**"Bonding is an experience between a human and an animal in which they perform a magic ritual that bonds themselves together. Kind of like soul mates, only not."**_ Before Harry could say any more, the snake began again: _**"Oh, oh, I have to ask you! Are you a wizard? 'Cause it won't work if you aren't, you know."**_ Harry laughed at the reptile's enthusiasm.

_**"I assure you, I am completely 100% wizard. I have been my whole life."**_

_** "Well, duh, you can't just become magical halfway through your life or something like that."**_ The snake then crawled up Harry's head so that she is sitting perfectly on top of his crown. _**"So, how about it? Huh? Huh? Do you want to bond with me?" **_ Harry laughed again.

_**"Sure, that sounds fun."**_

_**"Yay!"**_ At that, the snake slithered down Harry's head and torso, making him tense just a little. She sat down in his lap and turned her snake-like gaze up on Harry. _**"All we have to do is say an incantation together at the same time. It goes something like this: 'I am now you, you are now me. Your eyes are my eyes, and your touch is my touch. Our bond shall grow through space and time, and only Death will break us apart.'" **_Harry blinked a few times before he realized just what exactly he was getting into, but he nodded to show he understood anyway.

_**"And that's it?"**_

_** "Yep. Are you ready?"**_ At Harry's nod, the two began chanting in perfect Parseltongue:

_**"**__**I am now you, you are now me. Your eyes are my eyes, and your touch is my touch. Our bond shall grow through space and time, and only Death will break us apart.**__**"**_ At the last few words, Harry felt the magic in the air around them build and then die down.

_**"That means the incantation worked. We're bonded now, yay!"**_ The little snake's happiness was contagious, and Harry couldn't help but laugh. He then gently picked up his new companion and placed her on his shoulder as he stood from the ground. He dusted off whatever leaves or dirt was on him, then started heading back to camp.

_**"We're heading back to my home now. I don't know of any place where you can sleep for right now, but -" **_

_** "I know. It's part of the bonding. We share the same memories and thoughts. Remember? 'Your eyes are my eyes'?"**_

_** "I'm sorry, I didn't know."**_ The snake moved to Harry's other shoulder, where she can't be seen as well.

_**"It's okay, I don't know much either. I wish my mama was here."**_ Harry detected the sadness in the little reptile's voice and began seeing visions of soft heart beats, and strange outside hisses, which sound like a peaceful lullaby.

_**"I can help you find your mama, if you want."**_ Immediately, the snake perked up.

_**"Really? You would do that?"**_

_** "Well, we're bonded now. Can't see why I shouldn't help."**_

_** "Oh, thank you, thank you! I can't wait to see my mama again!"**_ Harry smiled as the two entered the Alpha tent. Penny looked up and smiled.

"Ah, Harry, there you are. Supper is almost ready." Harry nodded to show he understood, then quickly ran off before Penny could see the small garden snake on his shoulder. Once he reached his room, Harry shut the flap and then placed his snake gently down onto his nightstand.

_**"Who was that lady?"**_ The snake asked, and for some reason Harry sensed a little jealousy.

_**"That's my mother, Penny. I just call her Mum though."**_ The snake's jealousy ebbed away completely at this and soon she was back to her old self.

_**"Oh. Okay!"**_ Harry then sat down on his bed, sitting across from his new companion. Hedwig hooted angrily at the sight of the reptile, but thankfully did nothing.

_**"Do you want me to grab you some food?"**_ Harry asked, a little unsure of what to do with this new friend.

_**"No, that's okay. I can hunt for my own food,"**_ she responded proudly.

_**"Okay. Um, do you mind if I gave you a name?"**_ The snake's eyes widened a bit. She then proceeded to think this over a bit.

_**"It's so you can call me by something other than snake, I take it?"**_ Harry nodded. The snake then nodded as well, almost like a sage, but then she went back into seven year old mode.

_**"Just don't give me a stupid name!"**_ Harry laughed and promised he won't, but before he could make any suggestions, Penny called out for him.

_**"What's going on?"**_ The snake had also heard Penny's voice, but unlike Harry, she couldn't understand a word of what the human female was saying.

_**"She just called for me to go eat supper."**_

_** "Well then go silly!"**_

_** "But what about–"**_

_** "We can figure out a name later. Just go and be with your mama."**_ Suddenly Harry understood. It's not that his friend doesn't want a name. Instead she doesn't want to hinder Harry's time away from his mother. He nodded in appreciation and stood up.

_**"I'll be back soon."**_ With that promise made (and kicking Hedwig out so she doesn't try and eat the garden snake), Harry went to eat supper, trying to think on a possible name.__

**A/N:**

** Yay, now the good stuff is going to start happening! So, what do you think will be the snake's name? I already have one, but it'd be great to hear people's inputs! I love sharing ideas like that! As usual, please R&R, and J.K. Rowling owns what J.K. Rowling owns (in other words, she's the writing Goddess, I am merely a disciple). Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	6. Chapter 6

_September 1st, 1992_

The Hogwarts Express looked much more beautiful than it did when Harry and his friends first approached Platform 9¾. Its gleaming coats of paint gave a sharp contrast to the billowing, foggy smoke it emitted from its sleek black chimney. Hedwig rode in her cage, perfectly content, eying everyone besides Harry shrewdly, even Harry's parents. Richmond glared at the bird as it did him, but said nothing. Harry's other pet, though secret as his parents do not know of her existence, lay nestled in his coat pocket, waiting for the proper time to come out of her hiding spot. Harry carefully and casually lifted the lid of said pocket just a tiny crack.

_**"You doing alright, Emmie?"**_ Harry's whisper was no louder than a mute mouse, however, the snake's hearing picked it up clearly.

_**"I'm fine, perfectly comfortable. But don't call me Emmie! You promised not to call me a stupid name!"**_ Harry silently chuckled, seemingly to himself, earning him a strange glance from Phoebus.

"I'll tell you later," Harry quietly explained, giving a small gesture to the adults chaperoning the group of students.

Once the students gave the same conductor their luggages, the small group of Harry, Phoebus, Adam, Selene, and Melanie grabbed the first empty compartment they could find and sat down comfortably. Somewhat excitable, Melanie stood and opened the window, giving her mum Ashley Blake a big wave.

"Have fun at Hogwarts, dear!"

"I will, Mum!" Soon, the other children followed suit, and the train began to chug away towards their next year at Hogwarts, coming up with multiple plans of what to do while at school.

"Of course we have to go back home during the Easter break. That's when Gemma and Conrad have their wedding, and we can't miss that," Melanie enunciated with a dreamy eye for the romance of the aforementioned couple.

"It's interesting how we celebrate a Muggle religious time, and a Christian one at that," Harry noted curiously.

"That's only because the time of Easter falls under the time of the year that is a magical period of rebirth and renewal," Selene explained casually.

"So that's how everyone suddenly gets the energy to study for those last finals," Phoebus realized, though it was more mocking than an actual realization. This joke did not go unnoticed, and the whole compartment soon rewarded their fellow pack member with a small laugh. Adam was the first to stop laughing, and turned to Melanie.

"Which house do you want to be in, Mel?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The group watched Melanie closely before she finally gave up her little game with them. "Gryffindor." If it weren't for the special charms on the train to keep it together for however many years, then the yelling and swearing of the second years probably would have caused the compartment to fall off the moving locomotive.

"That is the worst idea you could have possibly come up with Melanie," Harry warned after everyone calmed down. As usual, Melanie's stubbornness won out.

"Oh come on. It can't be that bad."

"Oh no, it's not bad at all." All heads turned to see Ron Weasley at the door, his usual scowl replaced with a proud smirk. "In fact, you should get into Gryffindor as soon as possible to get away from these Death Eaters."

"Death Eaters?" Melanie asked, a little dubious. Weasley nodded, almost sage-like.

"Oh, yes. Evil little things they are. One day you're a perfectly sane human being. The next, you're a psychotic idiot." Melanie paled a bit while Harry immediately stood, his wand at Weasley's throat.

"Care to say that again, Weasley?" Harry's growl intensified with each word. "I didn't quite hear you." Weasley's eyes grew larger than soup bowls at this obvious threat. He loudly gulped in fright before trying to push the wand away.

"Y-you can't do anything to m-m-me. I'm H-Harry Potter's best mate."

"Oh really?" Both Harry and Weasley turned to see Draco, his smug smirk plastered on his pale face as he held up the most recent edition of the Daily Prophet. Its light parchment color stood quite plainly against his Slytherin school robes, but what really grabbed both boys' attention was the title: **"BOY WHO LIVED NOW BOY WHO DIED"**. "You were saying?" Draco queried in a victorious manner. Weasley looked back between Harry and Draco before finally giving up.

"You'll see, you'll all see!" With that, Weasley stormed down the hall to Merlin knows where. As if greeting an old friend, Harry held out his hand for Draco to shake. The Malfoy boy shook it happily.

"Good timing, Draco. Care to join us?"

"I thought you'd never ask." With that, Harry made the entrance clear, and once Draco entered the room, he shut the compartment door with a solid thud.

"No minions today, Drake?" Phoebus inquired, his gray eyes portaying a hint of curiosity. Draco shrugged and sat down next to Adam.

"You mean Crabbe and Goyle? They're nice to have around if you like pieces of meat, but I prefer real friends. Father thinks so too," Draco seemed proud of himself as he made this proclamation, making Harry figure out the real story.

"How much begging did it take to lay off the bodyguards?" Harry's joking earned him a slight shove, but he nonchalantly shook it off.

"Malfoys don't beg, at least those who have any dignity don't. It just took some persuasion that's all."

"Right, 'persuasion'," Adam quoted the word with his fingers, prompting Draco to smack the Hufflepuff across the arm.

"Ah, relax, Draco. We're just messing with you." Harry sat down in his original spot next to Phoebus and made himself comfortable, as did the others.

"You can't blame us, though. There's hardly anything to do." Harry slyly glanced at his best friend's declaration.

"Oh, really, Feeb?" Harry inquired. "Not even a good secret or two?" At this, everyone else in the cabin began prompting, or more so begging, their classmate and leader to tell them what's going on, what kind of secret, the like. "Of course, maybe you guys shouldn't hear. You know, it's rather hard to trust someone these days." The kids started going crazy.

"You're being cruel, Harry," Phoebus jested, "Come on, spill. _Spill_."

"All right, all right, since you guys are _dying_ to know," Harry began, "But once I show you, you can't tell anyone what happened, under any circumstances and under no conditions. Not even life threatening ones. Do you understand me?" At everyone's enthusiastic nod of agreement (even Draco's) Harry opened the lid of a certain coat pocket and began to speak: _**"Okay, Esmeralda. You can come out now."**_

Everyone was astonished at Harry's speaking, but nobody was prepared for what happened next.

"AAAHH! A SNAKE! KILL IT! KILL IT! KILL IT WITH FIRE!" Melanie's screeching was something akin to a Banshee, and before Harry could say anything, his little familiar was already prepared for a fight.

_**"Alright, girly, come at me with your screeching! I'll scare you to death!"**_

"SHUT UP!" Even though Harry spoke in perfect English, Esmeralda understood him perfectly well. Melanie shut up too, though she is now as far away from the garden snake as she could possibly be. Harry gently lifted his familiar with both hands so that everyone could see her perfectly. "Everyone, if you will please calm down, I'd like for you to meet my familiar. This is Esmeralda."

"Great Merlin, Harry," Phoebus muttered as he stared at his best friend with fascination. Draco's stare was a mixture of awe and envy.

"You didn't say anything about being a Parseltongue. You're full of surprises, aren't you Stidolph?" Harry recognized the small bit of jealousy in Draco's tone but decided to ignore it as he went introducing everyone to Esmeralda in parseltongue. Thankfully, the group was patient as the duo went to them one by one.

_**"This is Phoebus. He's been my best friend since I joined the Tribe. Loyal but cunning, he's good for pranks and such."**_

_** "I like pranks."**_

_** "I know you do. Then there's Melanie-"**_

_** "Oh, the screaming Banshee."**_ Harry chuckled.

_**"She uses that voice of hers for a lot of things."**_

_** "Nothing too pleasant, I'm sure."**_ Harry smirked, causing Melanie's fear to ebb away just a little.

"What are you saying to her?" Her inquiry was not lacking of suspicion.

"Nothing, she just doesn't like you." Melanie scoffed, but at Esmeralda's hiss, she immediately cowered again.

_**"This is Draco. He's about as Slytherin as you can get, but at least his heart is in the right place."**_

_** "He hides secrets."**_

_** "Doesn't everyone?"**_

_** "Well, yeah, but his secrets are bad. They reek of evil."**_ Duly noting this, Harry continued.

_**"This is Selene, Phoebus' twin sister. She's a little crazy, but like Draco, her heart's in the right place."**_

_** "She's pretty. I like her."**_ Harry smiled at this.

"She said you're pretty, Selene." Selene perked up a bit at this and smiled at Esmeralda in thanks. Melanie once again came out of her cowardice.

"Oh, so the snake likes her and not me?"

"Well, you did scream when you first saw her, Melanie," Adam exclaimed gently, "If I was the snake, I wouldn't like the girl who screamed at me either." The first year blushed but said no more.

_**"This is Adam. He's the most loyal friend I've ever known. He's a bit shy, but he's coming out of his shell." **_Esmeralda hissed, but Harry deduced it was more like a giggle.

_**"He's cute."**_ Harry smirked.

_**"Don't think I'll tell him that."**_ Esmeralda pretended not to hear, and began cooing at Adam before Harry took her away. He set her gently on his shoulder and prepared himself for the bombardment of questions. Sure enough, they came barreling at him, rolling off his friends' tongues, most of which came from Selene and Draco.

"How did you meet her?"

"How long have you had her?"

"What kind of snake is she?"

"Is she poisonous?"

"How old is she?"

And so on and so on. Finally, after a good few minutes and everyone changed into their school robes, Harry began his story:

"I met Esmeralda over the summer. I was taking a jog when I accidentally stepped on her tail. She's seven, and she's a garden snake, so I don't think she's poisonous."

"That doesn't explain why you're a Parseltongue, or how," Selene accused suspiciously. Harry shrugged.

"Esmeralda promised me her mother knows more about Parseltongue."

"Where is she? She might be hard to find, being another garden snake," Adam reasoned, but Harry's only response is a shrug.

"We'll find her when we find her," was all he said. Melanie suddenly shivered.

"Okay, I can take spiders, and rats, and even dragons. But a snake? Forget about it." Phoebus started snickering.

"You're really afraid of snakes?"

"Don't get any ideas, _Feeb_," the emphasis on the nickname was extraordinarily harsh, "I know where to find muggle CD's of Redman." The Slytherin in question paled to a white ghost-like complexion.

"You wouldn't dare." Draco only looked at both of them, a little faddled at the mention of muggle items, but decided it wasn't worth his time and, therefore, didn't ask.

* * *

At last, the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogwarts Station, and once it did, the students old and new burst out of the doors, eager for a chance to step onto the magically enchanting grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Just by stepping onto the platform, Harry felt the surge of magic rush into his body and through his system, as did the other werewolves. Harry looked around and smirked. Knowing everyone's ignorance, sometimes, it's good to be a werewolf. At least he has the chance to appreciate what he has.

As Melanie separated off from the others into the traditional first years' boats, the second years, including Draco, boarded a carriage to drive them to the school. However, Harry was a bit confused.

He heard that the carriages weren't drawn by anyone, no horse, no nothing. However, there is very clearly something there, in the form of what looked like a starved hippogriff and dragon hybrid. Its hide drabbed in all black, the beast looked at Harry once, shook its head a bit, and continued waiting for its passengers.

"You okay, Harry?" Phoebus looked between the empty space before the carriage and his best friend, wondering if the younger boy obtained some sort of illness. Indeed it seemed so, for Harry looked at Phoebus with a sort of curiosity in his eyes.

"You don't see them? The things driving the carriages?"

"You're seeing things, Stidolph. There's nothing there," Draco proclaimed as he helped Selene board the carriage and himself after her. Eventually, Harry decided to drop it and was the last one to climb on before the dark beast began pulling the carriage towards the castle.

When the students arrived at the castle, everyone except the first years were escorted inside the Great Hall by other professors. Once seated, Harry began talking with other Slytherins, including Daphne and (regretfully) Pansy. Once the girls began batting their eyes at him, however, Harry ended their conversation right then and there and began talking to Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team.

"You should have been there, Flint," Draco bragged, "I almost pulled off a Wronski Feint at our mock Quidditch game, remember that, Harry?" Harry shrugged.

"I didn't see anything about a Feint; more likely a Sloth Grip – even though we didn't use Bludgers." Flint chuckled at Harry's joke while Draco glowered at him, but said nothing.

"What about you, Stidolph?" Flint asked, curious. "How did you do?" Harry shrugged.

"I'd say average; just some flying here, some flying there, and what do you know? I got the Snitch." Flint appraised Harry for a little bit.

"How long did it take you?"

"You lot talking about the mock Quidditch game at Malfoy's?" Phoebus' butting in on the conversation made Harry give a small breath of relief. Sure, Quidditch is nice, but he isn't that ecstatic like his friends. There's more important things in life than flying around on a broomstick; living in a werewolf tribe for five years has taught him that.

"Yeah, were you there, Grint?"

"Yeah, I saw it. Harry caught the Snitch five minutes into the game." Harry would have groaned right then and there if he didn't care about his reputation. Flint only raised an eyebrow, but in Slytherin terms, that would mean he's astonished to say the least.

"Five minutes? Perhaps you could consider trying out for the Quidditch team, Harry. Our current seeker, Terrence Higgs, is okay, but if you can catch the Snitch five minutes into a game, then we just might keep our Championship Title this year. We almost lost it last year, remember?" Oh, Harry remembered. He never had time to go to a Quidditch game, however, he remembered the talk of the whole school, and how such a bad team as Gryffindor somehow got lucky enough to make it to the finals before eventually losing to Slytherin in that final match of the year. Harry said nothing, so Flint just shrugged at the lack of response. "Just think about it," and with that nonchalant ending, the conversation came to a close.

A few more minutes later, the first years came bustling into the Great Hall, among them Melanie. Harry also spotted bright red hair and inwardly winced. He'd forgotten all about the youngest Weasley, and remembering her behavior in the bookshop not too long ago, he'd rather keep forgetting.

"When I call your name, step up and sit on this stool, and the Sorting Hat shall place you in your house." With that, the Sorting began. Her last name being 'Blake', it didn't take long for Melanie to come up. To everyone's surprise, Melanie ended up in Ravenclaw, and sat down next to Selene who greeted her warmly. After that, it seemed to take forever before they finally reached the end.

When the Weasley girl (Ginny or something) was sorted into Gryffindor (_surprise_), Dumbledore stood and began reciting his usual speech:

"Welcome to Hogwarts, those of you with bright new minds and those of you with bright wiser minds. Before we begin our feasting, I would merely like to touch up on the school rules, for the sake of a reminder and for those who have recently joined our Halls. Should you perform well in your classes, and behave like a good student, you will be awarded points. Any rule breaking or any sort of misconduct will result in a deduction of points and the proper punishment. The house at the end of the year with the most points will receive the House Cup. Mr. Filch," Dumbledore paused here to nod respectfully at the respectless man, "has kindly reminded me that the Forbidden Forest is completely out of bounds for those who do not wish to die a most painful death. Now then, I would like to introduce to you your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart." At this, Lockhart stood from his spot at the Head Table and, with a swoosh of his cape, dissappeared as if by magic. The girls swooned and the boys groaned. Dumbledore smiled at Lockhart's antics before finishing, "Now then, let us feast!"

With those words proclaimed, all of the tables in the Great Hall seemed to erupt with food and merriment. Lockhart came back through a side door to the table and flashed a dazzling smile at Professor McGonagall before sitting down. Harry rolled his eyes.

"That's not magic, that's trickery," he mumbled before chowing down on a roast beef. The other Slytherin boys nodded in agreement before continuing with their meals. "Two different things: one is real, the other is a total fake."

* * *

As soon as the Slytherins reached their Common Room, it became time to choose who was going to be the roommates of the year. Surprisingly, a lot of boys (and girls) wished to sleep in the same room as Harry, as well as Draco, but once Harry, Draco, and Phoebus made it known they didn't want anyone else, their classmates immediately took the hint and settled for each other. The three boys stepped up into their three bed dorm and immediately made themselves comfortable. As they were getting ready for bed and put their things away in their respective places, Draco turned to Harry.

"Harry, can I ask you a question?" Harry raised his eyebrows at Draco's feigned innocence, and it was quite feigned because Harry could see right through his demeanor, but didn't object to it by gesturing for him to ask away. "How did you become a Stidolph?"

"...I'm sorry?" Harry tried to hide his panic, but his mask was quickly deteriorating. Phoebus, off to the side, also donned a face of panic, wondering if he'll need to step in any second now.

"I just met you over the summer last year. If our fathers had been friends for years, then surely we would have met before then. I don't remember you from my childhood, so tell me, how did you become a Stidolph?" Draco knew he was stepping on thin ice. Even if he wasn't adopted or the like, Harry would still be a halfblood thanks to his muggle born mother Penny. Obviously, nobody else knows of Harry's blood status, but to Slytherins, keeping your bloodline pure is vital. If Harry is an orphan (Merlin forbid), and he lied about it, then the consequences for him would be enormous.

Harry knows this too. If he tells Draco about his own childhood, then Draco would make sure that the whole of Slytherin knew of their budding leader. Therefore, Harry could only surmise the simple solution. He held out his hand and claimed,

"Unbreakable Vow. I tell you, and you don't tell anyone under any circumstances." Draco glanced at Harry's open hand skeptically and a little fearfully, but soon accepted it, and both boys turned to Phoebus to perform the ritual. Phoebus, looking very unsure, eventually grabbed his wand and stood between the two, ready to initiate the deadly treaty. As he performed it, Harry and Draco pronounced their promises.

"Do you, Draco Malfoy, swear to the Gods above, that you will not speak of what I'm about to tell you to anyone, living or dead?"

"I will. And will you, Harry Stidolph, swear to the Gods above, that you will tell me your secrets in full confidentiality and trust?"

"I will."

Soon, the deed was done, and after it was over, Harry took his own wand out and cast silencing and protective charms around the room, in case of any curious or malicious outsiders keen to listen in on their conversation.

"Pretty serious about this, aren't you Stidolph?" Draco joked, though the joke was weak, translating to how nervous he felt about this. Harry turned to Draco.

"That's not my name. My real name." Draco shrugged.

"I figured that, so what is it?" Harry and Phoebus looked at each other, as if to give each other support for the revelation to come, and Draco seemed surprised.

"You know about this too, Phoebus?" Phoebus nodded.

"Harry's pretty much a brother. He and I know everything about each other." The aforementioned boy smiled a little at this, since statements like that are rare coming from Phoebus, and took a deep breath.

"Do you know exactly what we are?" Draco shrugged.

"I've known you lot had some big secret; but I didn't bother to find out. That's what Slytherin is all about, isn't it?"

"We're werewolves." Draco appraised this declaration for a moment, before nodding in comprehension.

"My father's told me about Tribes, and he mentioned Richmond's contribution to his own Tribe, so it makes sense. But that doesn't answer my question."

"I know. But think about this, Draco, since we're werewolves, does this mean we have many rights?" Draco thought about this for a second, before shaking his head 'no'.

"Ridiculous laws," the platinum blonde muttered under his breath. Harry nodded in agreement before explaining,

"One of those laws claims that werewolves cannot adopt any children from any background or anywhere. Even if they're werewolf children, it's impossible." Draco's eyes widened as he understood what Harry was getting at.

"How'd you do it?" he demanded, yet he was more in awe than anger. Harry shook his head.

"I was eight, I don't remember. Anyway, before I met the Stidolphs, I was raised in a different home. The patrons of said household weren't very kind to me. They would..." Harry paused. Even if it was five years ago, the pain still stung. "They would abuse me at every chance they got." Thankfully, Draco didn't say anything at this. In fact, he looked completely calm. At this lack of response, Harry continued, "One day, I made things pretty bad. It was my magic, though. Accidental magic happens all the time for wizarding children. You know this." Draco nodded. "The head patron chased me out of the house but, thanks to his obesity, I was able to outrun him. I reached the far playground from the house where I found blood on the slide. The blood made a trail that led straight to the forest nearby. I didn't want to go back to the house, so I followed the trail. Finally, I found the source of the blood: a corpse of a dog. I also found the killer: a werewolf. Instead of eating me, he led me deeper into the forest, almost near our camp, where he bit me. Since I didn't have anyone to care for me, the Stidolphs illegally adopted me, and I've been living with them ever since."

Draco still didn't say anything. Instead he stood from his spot on the floor, and went into bed. Both the werewolves looked at each other nervously before going into their own beds. However, Harry couldn't help but think...did he just ruin his friendship with the Malfoy heir?

**A/N:**

** Dun dun dun! Nothing else much to say, so please R&R! And I don't own anything that J.K. owns! Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	7. Chapter 7

_September 2nd, 1992_

It was 4:30 in the morning when Harry was rudely awakened to a pillow slapping in the face. He immediately awoke and tackled his attacker to the ground swiftly and effectively.

"Harry, stop, it's me!" Draco, having dropped his pillow, thrashed about under Harry's weight until the Stidolph boy gained more of his senses and got off. The Malfoy boy picked up his swan feather pillow and glared at Harry while Harry, sheepishly, sat down on his still warm bed.

"Sorry, Draco." Draco fixed his slightly tussled hair until it was back to its sleek setting before setting the pillow down in its usual spot.

"I get that the world is out to get you werewolves, but Great Merlin, man," Draco's slight scolding could only have been justified by the bags under his eyes, so Harry let it go. "Anyway, I couldn't sleep."

"Why?"

"Because the moon is green tonight. Why else?" Well, ask a stupid question. Clearly Harry is still tired. He rubbed his tired eyes before looking at Draco with an apologetic look in his green-and-amber eyes.

"I suppose 'sorry' won't cut it?" Draco shook his head.

"No, it won't." Harry nodded in understanding.

"Look, Drake, if you don't want to be friends anymore, I understand you completely-"

"What are you, bonkers? Of course I still want to be friends!" Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"So what now?"

"I don't know," Draco answered, "All I know is, you had the right to be worried earlier." Harry smiled in appreciation before a sharp hiss from behind him cut him off.

_**"What are you idiots doing? It's sooo early! Go back to sleep!"**_

_**"Sorry, Esmeralda."**_ The snake curled back up and went back to sleep immediately, though Harry could see one eye was still slightly open. Draco peeked past Harry amusedly.

"What's up with her?" Both Draco and Phoebus the night before agreed to let Esmeralda wander around the dorm freely, as they felt it was their sacred duty towards their mascot. In fact, Harry would be concerned about the secret of Esmeralda if his friends didn't swear to keep it.

"She's annoyed that we're awake. Anyway, is there something else bothering you?" According to the worried look on his face, Harry knew that something was off. However, as soon as the worried look came, it went, and with it, Draco's fear.

"Of course not. Just get some sleep. Hopefully I'll still get some zzz's before classes start." Harry nodded in sympathy before he crawled back into the warm covers of his bed, eager for the classes to begin later that day.

* * *

Harry was able to sleep for about three more hours before Phoebus oh so kindly attacked him on his bed to wake him up. After that, he took a quick shower (since the trio was late for breakfast) and after he was done, the boys scurried to the Great Hall, hoping to at least obtain some orange juice before classes started.

Fortunately, however, breakfast really only started. Unfortunately, however, the rest of the kids began piling into the Great Hall around this time too, thus it became a more difficult time of finding seats.

"Harry! Phoebus! Draco! Over here!" The boys looked to see Selene and Adam sitting amongst the other Slytherins with three remaining spots. Relieved, the Slytherin trio sat down and began enjoying their breakfast.

The Heads of Houses soon came around and began handing out their schedules, their annual tradition. Snape seemed even more depressed than usual, but his pupils know better than to interfere with the older man's solitude.

Professor Flitwick, still as 'charming' as ever, suddenly seemed a little upheaved and began looking around. Professor Sprout, the Head of House for Hufflepuff, also seemed a little troubled, but when the two saw Selene, Melanie, and Adam at the Slytherin table, it soon became clear why.

"Ah, Ms. Grint, Ms. Blake, I almost missed you. Here're your schedules, dears," Flitwick handed his student the parchment with a delightful expression on his face. However, his happiness was soon replaced with a more warning glance as he proclaimed, "In the future, though, it'd be best if you sat with your fellow Ravenclaws." Selene and Melanie only nodded once, then went to reading over their time tables. Professor Sprout came and went with Adam's schedule and the same threat, though said in a nicer way: sit at your own table.

"That's ridiculous," Phoebus mumbled, "Students should have the choice of sitting where they want." Draco nodded in agreement.

"It's all Dumbledore, really," Draco glared at the old man accusingly, "He's about as hypocritic as you can get. Work against bias, yet cause bias itself by forcing it on the minds of the future. Because that's what Hogwarts is all about." The others within hearing range somewhat winced at this before finishing their meals and going back to their dorms. The bell is about to ring for classes.

* * *

"Hey Harry, look!" Phoebus would have shoved his schedule in Harry's face if Harry wasn't so quick and dodged the parchment altogether. "We don't have Potions with the Gryffindors!"

"Thank Merlin," Harry's relief is almost palpable until he expertly slipped on his mask of Slytherin façade. "Do we have any classes with them, at all? If we don't then this is going to be a good year."

"Let's see," Phoebus' gray eyes scanned his time table before he groaned.

"How bad is it?" Harry mentally prepared himself for the worst.

"DADA with the Gryffindors." Harry himself groaned. This is quite possibly going to be the worst class of the entire year. The worst teacher in existence mixed in with the worst classmates in existence. What a thrill.

Fortunately, however, DADA is later on in the day. For right now, Harry has Potions to look forward to, with one Professor Snape.

"Welcome," Snape's monotonous drawl echoed across the room, "to the second year Potions class. If you are here, this means that you are either Slytherin or Hufflepuff." Snape took this moment to snarl. "Hopefully you won't prove so big as dunderheads as some other classmates of yours." Harry snickered, thinking of Ron Weasley. "Something you wish to share with us, Mr. Stidolph?" All eyes turned to Harry at that, wondering if Snape had caught the popular boy off guard. To their relief, they found Harry to still be in rather good spirits.

"Forgive me, sir. I just happened to think about one of the dunderheads you've mentioned, a certain red headed Gryffindor who doesn't know how to hold his tongue in check." Harry's vague, yet detailed reply earned a small smirk from Snape, and Harry knew he was forgiven – for now. Snape then turned to one of Adam's classmates – a blonde boy with a larger nose.

"You! Tell me the first six uses for dragon's blood off of the top of your head." The boy stumbled a bit, and quivered somewhat. Harry, personally, didn't blame him. It's not easy to think when an intimidating man as Professor Snape is breathing down your neck. Before the boy could answer, however, the door to the classroom opened. Everyone turned to see a young man with dark brown hair tied in a ponytail, and happy blue eyes. His Hufflepuff emblem displayed proudly on his chest, he held out a gold parchment with a black ribbon tying it together.

"Pardon my interruption, Professor Snape," the young man began politely and cheerily, "But would you mind too terribly if I gave this to Mr. Adam Maddison?" Adam's eyes shone with curiosity and excitement, while his own face portrayed a face of skepticism. Harry inwardly smirked. His Slytherin ways are rubbing off on him.

"Fine. But be quick about it." And with that, Snape retracted to his desk. The seventh year (Harry is presuming he's a seventh year) strode to Adam and handed the parchment to him. Then he walked out the door and closed it confidently. "Mr. Maddison you may read whatever that is after class is over," Snape warned, and Adam took his advice by stuffing the parchment into his upgraded black and yellow book bag. Then, Snape went back to the same classmate from before and repeated his question. Thus, setting the class up to be one of review, not real learning.

* * *

After Potions class, Harry, Phoebus, and Draco pestered Adam endlessly about the scroll and what was in it. Adam, who secretly read it during class under Snape's large nose, could hardly contain his excitement as he dragged his friends off somewhere where they could have some privacy and dug it out. It was a little scraggled and wrinkled from Adam's books' constant abuse as he walked, and the black ribbon that was once tied neatly around it, is now re-tied with enthusiasm and messiness. Quickly, Adam untied the scroll and threw the ribbon into his bag. He unraveled the parchment and began reading out loud:

* * *

_"Dear Mr. Adam Maddison,_

_ It has come to my attention that your skills in your flying lessons from the year past have been, quite plainly, the best out of all your classmates. Therefore, I would like to personally invite you to try out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team. Tryouts will be on Wednesday September 9__th__ at 3:00 PM sharp on the Quidditch pitch. Should you be invited, callbacks will be on Friday September 11__th__. I hope to see you there._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Gaspard Thurston_

_ Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain"_

* * *

"I think you should do it, Adam," Harry encouraged after Adam was done reading, "Thurston's right, you are good. We saw that at the Quidditch game." Adam blushed.

"It sounds great, but...I don't know. What if they don't like me? What if I'm not really that good?"

"Adam," Phoebus interrupted, "You're good. Just try out." Harry and Draco nodded in agreement, though Harry isn't quite sure of Phoebus' bluntness. Finally, though, it seemed to work like a charm.

"Alright, I'll do it." Phoebus and Harry high fived their fellow pack member while Draco nodded in approval at the choice.

* * *

The Slytherins separated from Adam at that point to head to Transfiguration (where they caught up with Selene), and then to Charms with Selene yet again, where Flitwick gave Selene an odd look for sitting with her Slytherin friends instead of her Ravenclaw nestmates, however, he didn't say anything against it. Finally came lunch, and after that, the worst class in Hogwarts School to ever exist.

"Welcome, my fine pupils!" Lockhart boasted from his perch above the students, "Please sit accordingly with the Gryffindors on my left, and the Slytherins on my right!" The second years did as they were told and soon Harry found a seat next to Phoebus while Draco sat in front with Daphne Greengrass. Thankfully, Greengrass didn't attempt to flirt with Harry this time around. She, like all the other girls in the class, began to bat her eyes at the 'daring' Professor Lockhart.

"I think I'm going to hurl," Harry gestured to their female companions and Phoebus could only nod in sympathy before Lockhart began his 'teaching'.

"Now then, you've all read the required books I've assigned to you over summer break. Yes? Good. For the first half of class, we will be conducting a quick pop quiz over what you've read." Lockhart stepped down from his perch, his cloak billowing like a cape behind him, and he stood in front of his desk where everyone could see him.

_Unluckily_, Harry thought as he forced himself to look at the fake man's face.

"First question...you!" Lockhart pointed to a random student dramatically, a little flair added to his tone. "What is the difference between a jinx and a hijinx?"

_Are you kidding me?_ Harry had to hold in his growl at their teacher's stupidity, however it became easier to control as he soon became relieved at the student's answer.

"A jinx is a type of spell while a hijinx is just lively enjoyment." Thank goodness there are no such things as stupid students.

_Well,_ Harry glanced over at Weasley, _Perhaps I said that too soon._

"Next question...you!" Again with the flair. "What is the difference between fiendfyre and friendlyfire?" What? What the heck is friendlyfire?

"Um..." Sadly this student doesn't know either. Only Granger (though Harry couldn't possibly deduce how) seemed to have an idea, and she raised her hand as high as she could, hoping to get picked by the 'dashing' professor. "One's a spell and the other is...?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, son," Lockhart reprimanded pitifully, "But fiendfyre isn't a spell. It's the enemy of friendlyfire, which of course, is the fire that is friendly to humans." Oh, please. The students, a.k.a. the lambs, immediately began writing that piece of information down, though Harry didn't even bother to raise his quill. Lockhart must have noticed this, because his next question was directed towards him.

"What is the difference between a werewolf and a werebird?" Harry literally gaped. Of all things...

"I'm sorry, sir, but there's no such thing as a werebird." Immediately his classmates stared at him in shock. Is he really calling out Professor Lockhart? Leclair glared at Harry, but Harry only ignored it.

"Oh, my dear boy," Lockhart proclaimed, "Such is the ignorance of youth."

"No, sir, there really is no such thing. And for your information, fiendfyre _is_ a spell, but it's a highly dangerous one because it's a spell that can't be completely controlled, so those of faint heart shouldn't try it." After a moment, Harry even took it one step further: "And the faintest of hearts don't even know what it is."

The entire room was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. Professor Lockhart paled, though out of fright or embarassment, Harry wasn't quite sure. The girls glared at Harry while the boys stared at him in awe and fear. Finally, it was Professor Lockhart who was the first to react.

"Well. Aren't we feeling a little...knowledgeable today? What's your name, son?" Harry knew what this was for, yet he couldn't not give it anyway. Let him know who his enemy is.

"Harry Stidolph, sir."

"Wonderful. Mr. Stidolph, you will be having detention with me after school today for talking back to a teacher." Harry had to grip Phoebus' arm tightly to keep him from springing up in Harry's defense. Lockhart then proceeded to talk about jibberish and whatnots while everyone else (except Harry and his friends) copied it all down.

If there was a small victory in this, though, it was the fact that Lockhart didn't look Harry's way at all for the rest of the period.

* * *

"Seriously? What kind of teacher is that? 'Let me make up things right on the spot so that I can look like I know what I'm doing!' The guy didn't even know that hijinx isn't a kind of jinx at all," Draco mused bemusedly as they walked to Herbology.

"I wonder what he'll make you do?" Phoebus asked.

"Hey guys," Adam greeted, still joyful of the morning's great news. However, when he saw the glum looks on everyone's faces, his festive mood completely dissappeared. "What's wrong?"

"Lockhart gave Harry detention because Harry made him look like an idiot," Phoebus explained.

"You guys are surprised about this?" Adam looked very much perplexed. Draco eyed him suspiciously.

"What do you mean by that, Maddison?"

"Isn't it obvious?" By everyone's blank looks, Adam exclaimed, "Harry got top marks last year in all of his classes. Add to that the summer studies we've had with Guadalupe and he's pretty much the smartest second year in our class. Now, throw in a guy like Lockhart, whose I.Q. sums up to two, and clearly it's a fight that's already won. It'd be obvious because, since Harry is so smart, Lockhart would use a detention to try and regain his authority." There was a stunned silence. Not just with the small group of boys, but also with the students within hearing range. Finally, Harry was the first to speak.

"You ought to write a book: 'The Psychology of Idiots'. You could probably get a fortune out of that." Adam blushed as the group of four continued walking to Herbology, completely aware of the still stunned students around them.

* * *

After Herbology with Professor Sprout (who Harry still found to be a little boring and not worth mentioning), the last class of the day was History of Magic. Thankfully, it hadn't changed. Unfortunately, the teacher had been dead for far too long and all he did was recite facts. There was no teaching. Just facts. It was wise of Guadalupe to include history in their summer curriculum, otherwise Harry would be doomed in this class.

As Professor Binns droned on and on, his ghostlike figure flickering like the torchlight surrounding them, Harry felt himself begin to fall asleep. Well, if this was the class to sleep in, it might as well be this one. However, as soon as Harry was about to catch a few zzz's, he was rudely awakened by a light 'thunk' on his head. He opened his eyes to find a small piece of parchment placed right in front of him on his desk. Confused, Harry looked back until he saw Leclair sitting closer to the back and next to Weasley. Weasley is already asleep (for once Harry envied him) and Leclair is looking far too innocent. Suspicious, Harry took the parchment and opened it.

_That was wrong of you to call out a teacher like that._

Harry, frustrated with the blind favoritism, picked up his quill and began writing down furiously, surprising Draco, his deskmate. Knowing that Binns wasn't even close to paying attention, Harry threw the parchment back at Leclair when she least expected it.

** _You're hanging around with Granger too much. Besides, he clearly had no idea what he was talking about. Surely you know that._**

Leclair's gorgeous silver eyes narrowed at Harry's response and wrote down a reply before throwing it back at Harry.

_How can I hang around Hermione too much? She's my best friend! Anyway, everyone makes mistakes. Even Gilderoy does._

_**You're on first name basis with a professor? That's a little creepy, isn't it?**_

_ He said I could._

_**When?**_

_ When I told him I wanted tutoring on how to perfect my spells._

_**You're wasting your time. He doesn't know the difference between a giant and a troll!**_

_ At least he's not a bonehead._

_**Harsh. **_

_ You'll get over it. Besides, you are._

_**Your blindness is going to kill you one day.**_

Harry didn't get a response after that. So, once again, Harry was left to his own devices. Except, wait a minute, what is that?

Confused, Harry reached down into his bookbag and took out a unusually gray tome. _Gray Magicks_. Where did this come from? Oh, yeah! It was a birthday present at some point, wasn't it? Harry looked up to Professor Binns to find him still chattering away about nothing, not caring in the world what happened in the classroom. Excited, Harry opened the tome for the first time and looked through the contents. Nothing like a little bit of light reading to pass the time, right?

**A/N:**

** Hello everybody! First day of classes are going stupendously aren't they? Yay! Anyway, just to warn you all, I am going to be extremely busy the next couple of days, so I won't be able to update as much as I'd like. Nevertheless, I'd still love some R&Rs! Also, I do not own anything that J.K. Owns (just my OC's!). Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	8. Chapter 8

_Later that day..._

Harry made sure that all of his homework was done before he went down to detention with Professor Goldilocks. Since he doesn't know when detention will actually end, Harry wanted to make sure that he didn't have to stay up late in order to complete that five page essay from Transfiguration on what he remembered from last year. Finally, with nothing else to do, Harry bid his friends goodbye and begrudgingly dragged himself to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, where he found the idiotic teacher hang yet another painting of himself. This one is a bit incessant: it featured Professor Lockhart drabbed in an artist's get up (though Harry isn't quite sure whether artists were frocks that showed their hairy chests) painting another portrait of Lockhart, who in turn painted another portrait, and so on.

"Ah, Mr. Stidolph," Professor Lockhart greeted warmly as he finished setting up the artwork, "What do you think of my latest depiction?" Harry glanced at the portrait before answering passively,

"It's glamorously narcissistic." Professor Lockhart gave Harry an awkward smile at that, then directed Harry to his desk.

"You won't be doing anything too hard, Mr. Stidolph. Just help me sign all of my pictures to send to my fans." Harry observed the magical picture of Lockhart flying on a broomstick, his hair flipping back in all the right places. Harry inwardly gagged. This is more fake than Pansy Parkinson with her loud perfume! Harry tore his eyes away from the Merlin awful image.

"With all due respect, Professor, I think I'd rather clean the chalkboards or something." Lockhart laughed, his giggle sounding all too similar to an imp or a pixie.

"Sorry, Harry, no can do."

"I prefer Mr. Stidolph if you don't mind," Harry corrected but Lockhart pretended not to hear him. Without anything else to do, Harry plumped down onto the provided seat, took out his quill, and began to copy the autograph onto the picture, before replacing that picture with another one. And another one. Looking at the pile, Harry could deduce that this might take a while.

Eventually the pile of signed pictures began to grow, and Harry's hand was beginning to hurt from the continuous writing. Not to mention the sickening picture kept getting at his nerves. He shuddered at every single wink that the photographed Lockhart sent his way but said nothing. This detention will have to end sometime today.

"Ah, Harry," Lockhart sighed ruefully, "There's nothing harder than the life of a celebrity."

_Speak for yourself_, Harry thought as he finished another picture. Harry hoped his lack of a response would shut him up, but Goldilocks kept talking.

"You know, I remember you from that day in Diagon Alley. Do you remember? Quite foolish, really. How could I expect to find Harry Potter when he's dead? Tragic, that. But it's the way of life. Some make it, and others don't. Fortunately, I did. Unfortunately, he didn't." Harry resisted the urge to slap that egotistical grin off of the man's face, but he isn't a Slytherin for nothing, and therefore, his face remained passive and unresponsive. "Oh, don't worry, Harry. Not everyone can be as famous as I am. I think it'd be best if we said your little outburst in class today was simply a ruse for attention, nothing more."

"Excuse me?" Harry couldn't help not saying that out loud. Lockhart merely shrugged.

"Well, it's well known that you Slytherins are always out for trouble and whatnot. Simply, I think it's because your parents don't give you enough love at home."

"Do you have any proof of that, Professor?" Lockhart stopped signing and looked at Harry, confused.

"I beg your pardon?" Simply deciding that this conversation wasn't worth it, Harry shook his head frustratedly and bit out from his tongue,

"Never mind." Lockhart's look of confusion was replaced by a dashing yet annoying smile, and Harry once again wanted to slap it off of him.

"You know, Harry, I think you'll be a good enough wizard one day...if you learn to keep your mouth shut."

_Look who's talking __**Professor**_, however Harry kept his lips zipped and continued signing. Lockhart kept jabbering on and on throughout the whole session, however Harry completely blocked him out from his hearing, too furious to acknowledge the phony.

* * *

Finally all of the stupid photos were signed and Goldilocks let Harry go with a warning.

"Remember, it's not okay to ask for attention, except if you're a celebrity." Oh, please. That was by far the worst, the most ridiculous detention he'd ever taken part in. Making his blood boil like that...clearly this man needs a lesson. Catching sight of the Weasley twins not too far off, Harry grins evilly and stalks them in the shadows, knowing of what he needs to do.

"Bloody hell!" Both of the twins were actually caught off guard by the second year, making Harry smirk with pride.

"It's not okay to swear in school," Harry playfully reprimanded, "Didn't your mother tell you that?" One of the twins (Fred?) rolled his eyes.

"Sorry-"

"_Dad_," George finished, earning him a high five from his brother. Harry ignored them, however, and looked around to make sure they were alone. The twins, curious, followed his example and, when all three of them were sure, Harry rubbed his palms together, letting the older boys know he's in for a real good scheme.

"Gentlemen," Harry began, "I'm sure by now you've experienced the 'helpful' guidance of one Professor Lockhart." The two twins glanced at each other with annoyance in their eyes.

"That's a word for it," they both complained before directing their attention back at their fellow mischief maker.

"Well, since he's been so helpful and has given us a really good lesson, I propose that we teach him a lesson in our...gratitude." The twins' evil grins matched Harry's perfectly.

"Proposal accepted," their malicious intent shone in their muddy brown eyes, making them look like citrines instead of wet dirt.

"But what should we do?"

"How about dying his clothes?"

"We already did that."

"Hmm...we need something that will completely humiliate the man," Harry suggested, "But it needs to be public otherwise it'll never work."

Before anyone could say anything more, there was a faint hoot in the distance, which signalled the incoming of evening mail. Harry paid no mind to this, however, the twins' faces lit up like fireworks upon the call. These looks did not go unnoticed.

"What is it?" Both looking as if it's Christmas, Fred looked to George excitedly.

"My dear brother, if you would be so kind as to show our partner..._it_."

"Gladly, dear brother." With that, George reached into his book bag and pulled out a small box, its color light in lavender. There was a large red 'W' on the lid, and Fred opened it carefully before revealing to Harry what was inside.

"...a chocolate? You've got to be kidding me."

"No, no, no, Harry! This isn't ordinary chocolate! This is an experiment we've been working on."

"It's a chocolately chocolate that will give the eater a nasty fright."

"It's poisoned?!" Harry asked, almost excitedly.

"Sadly, no. Instead, this chocolate we've developed will..." At this, Fred leaned in close to Harry's ear and, upon hearing what was to come, Harry himself developed a look of complete ecstasy.

"Brilliant. Tomorrow, then?" Harry requested eagerly. Fred and George nodded.

"Right at breakfast."

**A/N:**

** Ooh, can't wait to see what the boys have in store for Professor Goldilocks! What do you guys think will be the prank? Will it be fire? Will it be ice? Will it be somewhere in between? Who knows? Anyway, please R&R, I don't own Harry Potter, etc. Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	9. Chapter 9

_September 3rd, 1992_

It was perhaps one of the most glorious moments in all of Hogwarts history. The students would talk about it for months afterwards, thanks to the gossipers and the cliques confined within the magical brick walls. The teachers will silently giggle in their offices or to each other, and no matter where he will go, he will have the humiliation stain his ego for the rest of his career. Nobody expected it; and nobody will forget it.

It was a perfectly blissful morning: breakfast in the Great Hall, full of students young and old, the teachers sitting and eating as well. Everyone is talking amongst themselves, whether it's about lesson plans or the Quidditch tryouts for this year. Finally, the mail came. Several of the Tribe's owls came and gave some of the werewolves little trinkets and treats; while Harry's snowy white owl Hedwig carried one letter from Richmond and Penny, and another letter from Marcus Flint. Stuffing his parents' letter in his bag, Harry opened Flint's letter cautiously, afraid of what it might contain. Sure enough, the envelope (trimmed with a shimmering emerald and sealed with a black and silver Slytherin seal) contained his worst fears:

* * *

_Dear Mr. Harry Stidolph,_

_ Little birdy told me you can catch a Snitch in five seconds flat. Let's put that to the test, shall we? I personally invite you to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch Team. Tryouts will be on the Quidditch pitch at 3:00 P.M. on Monday, September 7__th__, with possible callbacks on Thursday, September 10__th__. _

_ I hope you'll be there,_

_ Marcus Flint_

_ Slytherin Quidditch Captain_

* * *

Thankfully, Draco also got a personal invitation, so Harry won't be the only second year there, but Phoebus and the others teased Draco mercilessly about 'Daddy paying for the invite' rather than what Draco claims is a personal invite due solely to talent.

Lockhart himself was pleasantly surprised to find a small package, lined with purple velvet and adorned with a cutesy gold bow on top, as a part of his daily mail.

"I always get little gifts such as this, though it is curious that this one managed to get through the mail security system," the golden haired professor remarked casually, though his eyes were lit up with greedy desire. Professor McGonagall (who was assigned to sit next to him all year long), didn't bother to correct Lockhart that Hogwarts doesn't have a mail security system, and continued eating her bacon and eggs. Like a kid at Christmas, Lockhart excitedly opened the package and seemed a little dismayed when he saw what was inside.

"One measly little chocolate?" Lockhart held up the item in question with disdain, "_Someone's_ not getting their personally signed photograph this week!" The man looked up and down the Head Table accusingly as if one of his colleagues was responsible. However, nobody really paid Lockhart any attention, except perhaps Professor Trelawney, the batty Divinations teacher.

Harry looked towards the Gryffindor table to find the Weasley twins staring at their DADA professor almost hungrily. They took a moment to look back at the Slytherin table, and when the fellow mischief makers caught eyes, all three of them crossed fingers behind their backs and gave each other a small thumbs up.

Thankfully, Lockhart fell for it, and devoured the singular sweet in one quick bite.

"Hmm...I must say that was quite delicious. Wish I had more-" All of a sudden Lockhart stopped speaking. In fact, the whole Great Hall seemed to stop speaking, heck even stop breathing, as they watched Lockhart's transformation.

At first, it looked as if Lockhart was going to puke. Instead, however, Lockhart's throat began to constrict and contract on its own, as if it had suddenly gained life apart from its owner. Then came the fun part. Slowly but surely, Lockhart's deep set, proud chin, began to fade into its own skin and his thin neck was soon replaced with a bulging, fat, ugly nape, almost similar to a frog's. But the magic wasn't done yet. Soon, Lockhart's skin around his neck and face area began to grow into a sickly green, his eyes both bulging yellow irises with midnight black pupils. To top it all off, instead of his deep annoying voice, all Lockhart could say was...

"RIBBIT!"

At first, there was dead silence. Then the froggy Professor Lockhart ribbited again, and soon after, some students began giggling. Then, the giggling became laughter as more students joined in. Finally, the whole room erupted with roars as their amphibious professor clambered out of his seat and ran to the side door and out of the Great Hall. Only Professor Dumbledore seemed to pity the man, as even the faculty began to chuckle. The boys were laughing the hardest, some even rolling out of their chairs, while girls seemed to laugh in a pitiful manner.

Once the laughter finally died down, Professor Dumbledore stood up, a solemn expression on his face.

"I must say," Dumbledore began, "That was quite a wake up call. Now will someone stand and take responsibility for that impudent act of disrespect?" The hall immediately sobered up, like a lolly sucked by a small child, and nobody stood. Harry certainly isn't standing, and from what Harry could tell, neither are the twins. It soon became obvious that the culprits wouldn't reveal themselves, so Dumbledore sighed ruefully. "Very well. Fear not, we will find the perpetrators and punish them accordingly. Mischief makers, you have been warned."

And on that happy note, the students were dismissed to their respective classes.

* * *

_ATTENTION ALL DADA STUDENTS OF ALL YEARS:_

_ I, Gilderoy Lockhart, am a little too preoccupied for lessons today, but fear not! Below my letter you will find a sign up sheet. This is the sign up sheet for the Duelling Club! It is a club for second years through seventh years where, what else, students duel just for the fun of it! There's no cost and you get to work with me for pointers and tips! First meeting of the year is on October 31st. If you have any questions, come see myself (when I'm not so preoccupied of course), or my assistant Professor Severus Snape._

* * *

"Of course he'd advertise himself like that," Harry muttered, and his friends nodded their heads in agreement.

"Should we do it?" Selene seemed a little peeked at the idea of the Duelling Club, however her other half was on the completely opposite end of the spectrum.

"And spend more time with Professor Goldilocks? I'd rather eat live worms," Phoebus playfully gagged to emphasize his point.

"Out of the way!" From nowhere, two redheads and a bushy haired child barreled through the group. Draco, who was pushed against a wall, rubbed his sore arm with a scowl on his face.

"Don't you have manners, Weasley? Or are you too poor to afford those?" Harry couldn't help but snicker as the male Weasley's face turned as red as his hair.

"Course I have manners, Malfoy. You just don't deserve to receive them, that's all." Immediately, Harry went into his protective mode, eager to help out anybody in his 'pack' who is hurt in any way.

"And you don't deserve to have friends, Weasley. But since you have those..." Harry paused for a moment to wink at Leclair who glared at him, "Then I think you owe Draco an apology for being the rude git you are."

"You can't tell me what to do," Weasley threatened, and Harry heard the next part even before he said it, "I'm Harry Potter's best mate."

"Potter's dead, Weasley," Harry shot, and he looked around at his friends for support, "and you're outnumbered." True to his word, Adam, Selene, Phoebus, Draco, and Melanie all stood behind Harry, and glared at each Gryffindor before them: Weasley, Leclair, and Granger. Surprisingly, it was Granger who first reconciled with her senses.

"Come on, guys, let's go. These snakes aren't worth the trouble." Harry only shrugged, but as the trio walked away, he decided he couldn't let Granger have the last word.

"At least I'm not a beaver!" At this, Granger ducked her head a little while Weasley glared at Harry and began to guide his friend away. However, Leclair wasn't having any of it. She took out her wand and, before anyone could say anything, put it at Harry's throat.

"Go on. Do it." Her threat was imminent, but it wasn't quite clear what she meant until she gestured to the sign up sheet hanging oh so innocently up on the wall. "Sign up, Stidolph, and let's see whether you can put money where your mouth is." The collective 'ooh's behind Harry didn't help his situation. However, he wasn't going to give in just yet.

"Careful, Leclair, you're going to poke someone's eye out."

"Yeah, yours, unless you sign up or go away." Adam couldn't contain his laughter any longer.

"Looks like she's sick of your talk, Harry." Harry smirked at Adam's comment and leaned in to Leclair, almost menacingly, but more so playfully. Leclair wasn't backing down either.

"Oh, don't worry, Leclair, you'll see my bite is worse than my bark."

"Prove it." He could see her silver eyes perfectly, and if not for the mean look in them and the atmosphere around them, Harry would have stared in them all day. However, he didn't let himself have that moment of weakness and before anyone could stop him, he signed his name right under the last name on the list. Walking away confidently, he winked at Leclair who flushed but said nothing. Soon, the others signed up.

"What are you guys doing? I was baited," Harry demanded, confused.

"Simple," Phoebus explained simply, "We can't let you show up to Duelling Club by yourself. Where's the fun in kicking everyone's butts on your own?" At that, Leclair stormed away, looking back once at Harry before joining Weasley and Granger.

"Elle, what were you thinking?" Harry's werewolf ears heard the conversation as they walked away. "You've heard the rumors about him. He's dangerous."

"Trust me, Hermione," Leclair's confident response came, "I know what I'm doing. I've done tutoring with Professor Lockhart, remember?" Harry couldn't help snickering at that last comment before he and his small pack made their way to their next classes. Oh she of too much confidence.

**A/N:**

** A prank on Lockhart and a dare from your crush to sign up for Duelling Club? Now that's a good day! I'm noticing that not as many people are reading this as they are with 'Call of the Moon' and while I can say that first year is pretty good...I honestly think this one is better. Please give me R&Rs for this one, I don't want to write for an empty audience! Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	10. Chapter 10

_September 6th, 1992_

_**"Remind me why you don't take me on walks like this?"**_ Esmeralda's hissing from his cloak pocket was still quiet, even though it's almost evening curfew throughout the castle. Harry was, as usual whenever he's out like this, sneaking through the shadows, never at one moment lingering where he can easily be seen.

_**"Because people might see you, and then they'll wonder why I have a snake familiar, and then a whole lot of troubles arise. It's a safety precaution, really,"**_ Harry's hissing was fast, and not very authentic, however, Esmeralda never complained. So long as she does have a companion to talk to, then that's all she can ask for.

_**"Yeah, I get that, but this place is really, really, super pretty! I want to see it more and you never let me!"**_ Esmeralda's childishness shone through, and Harry remembered once again how easy it is to mistake Esmeralda as someone older than him, when really, she's only a couple of years behind.

_**"I'm sorry, Esmeralda, but I'd rather be safe than sorry,"**_ Harry's firm attitude towards the matter meant the subject was done and over with, which did not bode well with Esmeralda.

_**"What kind of Slytherin are you? Slytherins always take risks and are stealthy and cool guys who do whatever they want! But you? No, you're just a-"**_

_** "Shh!"**_

_** "Don't shush me Harry! Besides, I wasn't going to call you anything that-"**_

_** "No, really, shush! Don't you hear that?"**_

Immediately, both familiars strained their ears even more, but it wasn't until Harry put his ear against the closest wall that he was hiding in that he could hear it clearly:

_"Kill...kill...__**kill**__..."_

_**"What's that?"**_ Esmeralda's hiss became one of fear now as she looked around, afraid of the secrets that lay within the stone boundaries.

_**"I don't know, but let's go see."**_ With that, Harry began following the trail of deadly hisses, turning corners and dodging any ghosts and teachers in the hallways and corridors. Finally, the duo reach a familiar floor with a familiar sight.

_**"It stopped here,"**_ Harry noted as he glanced across the hallway from the room. _**"Defense is across the way. But why would hissing like that be in a girl's bathroom?"**_ Both looked doubtfully at the restroom before them. The second floor girl's lavatory isn't a popular place to be, due to the mourning spirit of Moaning Myrtle who roams the toilets and scares any girls who come in, just to spite them. Regardless of the ghost, Harry went inside, with Esmeralda still in his pocket.

Whatever toilets worked were old and moldy from lack of cleaning. The stalls creaked on rusty hinges, and the sinks were musty and disgusting. It's definitely not a typical place you'd find creepy hissing in the walls. Yet, both Harry and Esmeralda could still hear it, deep within the stone, now beneath their feet.

_**"Whatever that was, it's now under the floor. There must be something underground!"**_ Her excited hissing woke Myrtle who, after scouring the bathroom, went back to her usual toilet. As soon as she was gone, Harry silently chastised the garden snake for making so much noise, then began to look around. If Esmeralda's right (and she probably is), then there has to be a secret entrance somewhere.

Harry looked once at the bathroom stalls before immediately disqualifying them in his mind. No sane being would want an entrance to a secret place in a toilet. Therefore, that only left the circular sink. It wasn't hard to find it after that. After a while of careful observation, Harry noticed the small engraved snake on the side of one of the faucets.

_**"How do you open it?"**_ he whispered to himself. If he was hiding something in a school, then it'd have to be...wait a minute.

As soon as he finished that question, the walls of the sink immediately began expanding, and the top floated away to the top. Soon, there was nothing but a dark hole, with clear hissing below.

_**"There's nothing but a slide here,"**_ Harry noted.

_**"Well slide down then, silly!"**_ Deciding to follow his familiar's advice, Harry warned her to hold on tight, and without another word, he slid down quickly to the bottom.

"That's disgusting," Harry muttered to himself as he glanced about the room. Random bones of small animals lay about everywhere, even on his robes there was bone dust. Thankfully, it wasn't hard to get off, and soon, Harry began going down, his wand and his familiar the only things by his side.

_**"This is really scary, Harry,"**_ Esmeralda's hiss became no more than a peep.

_**"Well, we can't go back the way we came,"**_ Harry tried to soothe the snake and himself, _**"Might as well keep going forward."**_ Down and down they went, aware of every sound made and of every sound they thought they heard. Eventually, Harry had to pull out his wand and cast a light spell, just so he could see at least a couple of inches in front of him. Trying not to panic, Harry extended the light so that it reached a couple of feet, but that only served to make him feel a little better.

Finally, they came upon the end of the tunnel, and stood in front of a large door, this one leading to a chamber of some kind. Currently, at a loss, Harry looked down at his snake friend for guidance.

_**"Don't look at me!" **_Esmeralda seemed to cower at the sight of the door, even though the gateway itself was covered in large stone snakes, almost ten times her size. Well, maybe the size is what's scaring her. But Harry put that aside as he looked at the door, dumbfounded. Without anything else to do, Harry tried one simple word:

_**"Um...open?"**_ Fortunately, it worked. A snake that was previously unseen began slithering around the doorframe, causing the other snakes to back away, and for the door to creak open wide. Currently proud of himself, and without thinking ahead, Harry climbed up the provided ladder and stepped down into a very elongated chamber. There were large pedestals of snakes lining the room, and the more Harry looked at them, the more he felt that they were looking back.

_**"Wait a minute! Harry, I know where we are!"**_ Excitedly, Esmeralda crawled out of Harry's cloak pocket and onto his right shoulder.

_**"Well, I don't, so if you'd share, I'd be very grateful."**_ Esmeralda glared at her companion only temporarily before she hissed in excitement,

_**"This is the Chamber of Secrets, created by Salazar Slytherin himself. My mother told me that Slytherin built this place so that Hogwarts would have a protector, a mighty protector, who would aide the teachers and students in times of great danger. However, when Slytherin and the other founders got into a huge argument, he left, not telling anyone where the monster's chamber is. And he never came back. That's why it's called the Chamber of Secrets."**_ Harry nodded, apprehending the large bust of Slytherin's head now before him.

_**"Makes sense."**_ But Esmeralda wasn't done yet.

_**"My mother also told me that the Chamber can only be opened by the Heir of Slytherin, and when it is open again, then the monster will wreak havoc on the whole school. But, of course, that couldn't be any less true. My mother said that that would be impossible since the monster was brought here to protect the students, not kill them."**_

_** "How does this monster kill, anyway?"**_

_** "By sight, I think."**_ Anxious, Harry observed the mouth of Slytherin, his head wheeling and turning. Esmeralda didn't miss the curious glint in those emerald-and-amber eyes.

_**"Harry...what are you-"**_ Before she could say anything, Harry lifted his writing hand and put all of his magical energy towards Slytherin's mouth.

_**"Open."**_ With that one word, the mouth of Slytherin began to open slowly and surely. However, from what Harry heard, it made him wish it wouldn't open.

_"Kill...kill..."_

_**"It's the hissing!"**_ Esmeralda panicked. _**"Quick! Hide!"**_ And hide he did. Harry bolted to one of the snake busts and dived for the small space next to the neck, hiding from the door. Trying not to breathe very hard, both familiars held their breath as they heard the presence of the mysterious hissing slide into the room.

_**"Well, well, well. It looks like the one who set me free is nowhere to be found. Pity. Don't worry, though, I have very good senses. I can hear the breaths you take. I can smell the fear palpitating in your heart. I can taste your sweat and your stink, even from afar. I'm sure your skin is very smooth to the touch, however, with one glance from me...you won't even know you're dead. So don't worry, little master, I will find you, one way or another. And then, of course, I'll kill you. Can't have you blabbing about the Chamber, now can we?"**_ Harry heard the feminine hissing chuckle a bit before continuing to slither closer and closer to his hiding spot. He held in his breath and desperately tried to keep his heartbeat to a minimum. Unfortunately, this did not go unnoticed.

_**"Oh, it's no use, little master. No matter what you do, you will die. Why bother fighting? You've gone this far now. Might as well show yourself. Oh, never mind, that won't be necessary." **_The hissing, Harry suddenly realized, became a lot louder, and before he knew it, he felt the drool of a monster right next to him.

_**"Die,"**_ the monster advised, and Harry only covered his head with his hands as a response. Before the monster could take a bite, however, the most shocking event occurred.

_**"Mama?"**_ Esmeralda snaked out of her hiding spot on Harry's shoulder to where she could be seen plainly in the dim light of the chamber. Immediately, Harry sensed the monster recoil in confusion and somewhat disgust.

_**"I...I beg your pardon?"**_ Esmeralda slithered towards the beast even further and, as his familiar distracted the beast, Harry got a chance to look at the beast. To his surprise, it is also a snake, and clearly a female. Due to her enormous size, Harry could only deduce that she is a basilisk. Wait a minute.

_**"Mama, it's me! Remember, your baby? Mama and baby?"**_

If her face could show recognition, then Harry was sure that her face would have lit in such happiness and relief.

_**"My child! My baby! You have found me after all! Come here now!"**_ With one swoop, the basilisk picked up Esmeralda gently with the tip of her tail, and brought the baby close to her eyes. _**"Ah, yes, you've finally hatched, what, seven years ago?"**_ Esmeralda nodded, then cuddled up to her mother's tail before she was brought to the head.

_**"I've wanted to find you for so long! I love you, my Mama."**_ The fully grown basilisk snuggled with her little one in return, and all Harry could do was gape at the recently reunited family.

_**"You're a basilisk?!"**_ Harry's outspoken question brought the mother's attention back to Harry, who quickly shielded his eyes.

_**"Oh, I forgot. I have to kill you now."**_

_**"No, Mama, wait!"**_ Esmeralda slithered onto her mother's nostrils so she can see her clearly. _**"He's my familiar!" **_The fury in the room was palpitant at that moment.

_**"Your what?"**_

_** "Mama, this is Harry. Harry, this is my Mama."**_ After that quick little introduction, Esmeralda explained everything: how they met in a forest, and Harry's ability to speak Parseltongue, and everything that she knew, including his illegal adoption. The basilisk's face seemed very interested at the end of the story.

_**"I've never heard of it being illegal for werewolves to adopt. Or that Light and Dark magic is so segregated. Tell me, Harry," **_it's not easy to say his name in Parseltongue, so she butchered it, but Harry let it slide, _**"What year is it?"**_

_** "1992."**_

_**"Hmm...it's certainly been a while then. I suppose my good friend Salazar is long dead by now. You mortals only last so long, after all."**_ Once again, Harry gaped.

_**"You knew Salazar Slytherin?"**_ The mother snake seemed to stick out her chest with pride at the awe Harry was giving her.

_**"Of course I knew him. Who do you think brought me to this castle in the first place?"**_ To say Harry was amazed at that is an understatement.

_**"Well, wait,"**_ Esmeralda's eyes locked onto her mother's, _**"How is it that I was born so far away from you then?"**_

_** "You hatched long before I was brought to Hogwarts. After I met Salazar and he gave me the offer, I didn't have time to bring you. Thus, I simply hid your egg until you hatched."**_

_** "That makes sense, but I've looked into Harry's eyes multiple times now and he hasn't died. Why's that?"**_

_** "Because your deathly stare is something that is developed, not something you are born with. You'll have a more difficult time looking at people as you get on in your years."**_

_** "But what about-"**_ The little snake was interrupted by chuckling hisses from her mother.

_**"You have many questions, my young one, as I expected. Harry,"**_ The basilisk turned to the second year, and the boy was smart enough to look away. _**"You wouldn't mind too terribly if my offspring stayed here? At least for a while?"**_

_** "By all means,"**_ Harry replied happily, _**"I promised your daughter I'd help her find her mother, and well, I did. But if you ladies don't mind, it's rather late and I have classes tomorrow."**_ Esmeralda seemed to bounce as she quickly snaked from her mother to Harry.

_**"You should name her too, Harry!"**_ The basilisk looked between the child and her offspring, confused.

_**"A name? What is a name?"**_

_**"It's something you call yourself and what others can call you. For instance, Harry is Harry, and he gave me the name Esmeralda."**_ Though skeptical, the fearsome beast did accept it and agree to it.

_**"Give me a good one, though,"**_ she warned, and Harry couldn't help but compare her to her daughter.

_**"All right, um...how about Ivy?"**_ At the obvious disgust, Harry trashed that idea. _**"Um...what about Jade?"**_ Another shake of the head. _**"...Zarga?"**_

_** "Gesundheit,"**_ she responded humorously. Harry rolled his eyes at the joke but continued to focus in. Suddenly, it hit him.

_**"How about Eve?"**_ The dark greenish scales seemed to shimmer a bit as the basilisk pondered this next proposition.

_**"Sounds like a good basic name, but why that in particular?"**_ Harry chuckled and explained the infamous story of Adam and his bride, and how this wife was tricked into 'sin' by none other than a snake. After he was finished, the mother seemed to smile evilly.

_**"There's nothing I love more than good irony. Very well, Eve it is."**_ Esmeralda coiled up her mother's body until she reached the head (it took her a while) and yawned quite loudly. The newly christianed Eve snuggled her child before telling Harry,

_**"If you go back the way you came, Harry, then at the end of the tunnel just ask for stairs. The slide will become stairs and that's how you get out. It could also prove to be a good way to go down and avoid my past meals. Good night."**_ With that, she and her offspring crawled back into Salazar's mouth, which Harry presumes is where they will sleep. Yawning himself, Harry follows her orders, and this time the tunnels aren't nearly as scary returning to Hogwarts and the life above the Chamber of Secrets.

When he returned to his dorm room, his roommates were already asleep, though Harry noted how each of them seemed to face his own bed one way or another. He pushed that thought away, however, and quietly got ready for bed before tiptoeing under his covers with a yawn and a fear: the fear of Quidditch tryouts the next day.

**A/N:**

** So, plot twist, Esmeralda isn't a garden snake but a baby basilisk! Huh, who knew. Well, I did, but that's not the point. I've noticed that a lot of people either ignore this story or that they don't know this story exists (I'm hoping it's the latter). For those of you reading, thank you, but if you could spread the word that would be very much appreciated. As always, R&R, and I don't own anything that JK owns. Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	11. Chapter 11

_September 7th, 1992_

"Ladies and gentlemen," Professor Lockhart's deep voice echoed across the classroom. "I must say, despite it being only a week, I can't tell you how happy I am to teach all of you. And I'm sure that you are just as happy learning from me."

"That's likely," Phoebus muttered darkly, earning him quiet chuckles from his fellow snakes.

"So far, we've discovered the vital difference between jinxes and hijinxes, and friendlyfire's origins as the fire that man uncovered in the early days of the prehistoric era. But that's all been talk, has it not? Now, let's put our new knowledge to the test. What I have in here," Lockhart paused to emphasize the existence of the large, cloaked cage, "is a creature that is one of friendlyfire's most potent enemies and creatures that can only be dealt with by jinxes and hijinxes. Ladies and gentlemen," At this, Lockhart's face seemed to contort darkly as he grabbed the cloak on the cage dramatically. The cage began to shake, adding to the drama. "Ladies and gentlemen," Lockhart repeated, "I ask you not to scream. You might provoke them!" At last, Lockhart whipped off the amethyst colored cloak to reveal multiple blue flits flitting about inside the cage, attempting desperately to thwart the metal bars that hold them inside.

"Cornish pixies?" Seamus Finnigan, who looked as if he was about to wet himself before the reveal, now had a face clouded with disdain and skepticism. Harry didn't blame him. He's seen scarier things than an eight-inch blue thing with bug-like pupils, even if all they do is cause trouble and make mischief.

"Trust me, Mr. Finnigan," Lockhart corrected, his eyes obtaining a fiery glow, "When you've been around the world as I had, even the most innocent thing can prove to be deadly. The Cornish Pixie, or also known as the _Leui Pixie_, is no exception."

"Excuse me, Professor," Granger's hand was up like a skyrocketing broomstick, a multitude of questions scurrying in her head, as usual. Lockhart's fiery eyes were now somewhat dimmed with agitation as he turned to his student.

"Ms. Granger, hold your questions, if you please." With that and a smile, Granger's hand immediately shot down. Draco turned around to the others.

"She wouldn't give up that easily," he quietly noted to them.

"It's Lockhart, what do you expect?" Harry quietly argued, and Draco accepted this with a shrug. All eyes were brought back to Lockhart as his hand moved to the lock on the cage door.

"Time to test your knowledge," Lockhart moved to the lock on the door.

"He's not going to let them out is he?" Phoebus asked. As his hands moved about, Harry could only dread what was going to happen next.

"Duck and cover," Harry ordered and soon almost all of the Slytherins hid underneath their desks just as the cage door opened. Immediately, the screams began as the high pitched, squeak-like laughter of the pixies began to echo all around the room instead of just the particular section from earlier. It wasn't long before the pixies found the hiding Slytherins, and in Harry's attempt to bat one off, it instead landed on Leclair, in which it began to pull on her nose.

"Stidolph!" she screamed, even though there were others screaming, Harry could hear hers clearly.

"It was an accident, I swear!" he cried back, but she either didn't hear him or ignored him as she whacked the Cornish Pixie off of her nose.

"Remember, children! Jinxes and hijinxes! Jinxes and hijinxes!" Lockhart cried, but as soon as he pulled out his wand to help the students, a pixie stole it and threw it into his latest portrait. Having no more options, Lockhart decided to do the noble thing and run to his office, slamming the door shut.

"Great! Now what?" Harry shouted as the pixies continued to dart from here to there and everywhere in between. At one point, two pixies grabbed Neville Longbottom by his ears and lifted him high above the classroom. Soon, they made it to the top where they hung Longbottom by his robes and left him there screaming for help. Finally, it was Granger who acted by standing and waving her wand about with a loud,

"Immobulus!"

Immediately after the charm was cast, the pixies froze in thin air before promptly dropping to the ground. There was a moment of stunned silence, before the relieved students picked up the frozen pixies, threw them back into their cage, and knocked on Professor Lockhart's door, telling him it was safe to come out. Lockhart came out with a stroll and a smile on his face.

"I told you those hijinxes would work. Remember class: _Peskipiksi Pesternomi_, the hijinx that will deal with those little buggers. Um..." As he looked around the room, the students watched as his face fell upon seeing the paintings and his other works destroyed. "No homework for tonight, kids. Just remember to sign up for Duelling Club, all right?" With that, Lockhart shoo'ed the students out of the door and shut it tight. Though it was tight, however, Harry and the other werewolves could hear him crying over his items clearly.

"It's official," Phoebus joked, "We now know we have a coward for a Defense teacher." The other Slytherins nodded in agreement before walking to their next class.

* * *

Harry inwardly groaned. He never wanted to play Quidditch except for sport, and looking at the field he now stands on, Harry felt that that opinion will not change any time soon. He hates being pressured like this...how were his friends able to talk him into it again?

There were eight people total competing for four spots on the team: one Chaser, the two Beaters, and the Seeker. Harry, along with Draco and one older Slytherin were competing for Seeker, while two girls and a boy were trying for the Beater positions, and two boys were competing for the last Chaser spot.

Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin quidditch team, stood before the eight students with the other Chaser Adrian Pucey on one side, and the Keeper Miles Bletchley on his other side.

"Alright, you lot," Marcus spoke with a small lisp due to his misplaced teeth, "We'll go for the Chasers first since there's less people. So, the rest of you sit to the side, and Adrian and Miles will work with the two Chasers. I'll be watching and giving more instruction. Move it!"

Harry and the others obeyed the captain's commands, and watched from the ground as the two Slytherin boys worked with the team members. Though they were more than fifty feet below the players, Harry could tell that these two truly and deeply do not know how to play Quidditch.

"Clearly none of them are going to be called back. That's just sad, isn't it?" Draco asked Harry, a look of pity yet relief on his face. Harry nodded, ignoring his fast beating heart. Soon, the five players came back down to Earth, Marcus with a look of dissappointment and the two auditioners with equal looks of embarrassment on their pale faces.

"Okay, now for the Beaters," Marcus continued after dismissing the Chasers. The three Beaters stood with their brooms, all three of them ready for whatever Flint throws their way. "I'll only need Adrian for this one," he told the other players. Bletchley nodded in understanding and sat down on a bench nearby. "One of you will fly up with us each time. There will be one Bludger loose, and your job is to keep it from hitting Adrian and I. Understand?" The three nod in comphrension and Marcus pointed to one of the girls, a long-haired girl with a long nose and a large forehead. "Cameron, you're up first." Lileas Cameron smirked and rode up into the air with Flint and Pucey.

True to Flint's word, one bludger was loose, and Cameron was fast, hitting the bludger back each time. After Cameron succeeded in hitting the bludger ten times, the fast flying ball was subdued and the three flew back down. She sat down as Flint called up the only boy, a fourth year by the name of Abram Shafir.

Shafir missed the ball once, but he was fast as Cameron. The problem is his hair is so long that it covers his eyes at times, preventing him from seeing as well. After he successfully hits the ball ten times, the three of them came back down, Flint restraining the bludger with one arm.

Finally, it was the last girl's turn: Perrine Derrick. She was the fastest Beater out of all of them, hitting the bludger ten times at least thirty seconds before Cameron, though Harry wasn't really keeping track of the time. Impressed, Flint excused the Beater wannabes before turning to the three potential Seekers.

"Your task is a simple one," Flint explained, "Find the Snitch and catch it in the shortest amount of time possible. I'll be watching while Pucey and Bletchley will both be tracking the time. Let's go in alphabetical order...Malfoy! You're up first!" Draco nodded and got up, collecting his brand new broom and hoisting himself up into the air. The three team members also flew straight into the air. Both Pucey and Bletchley cast spells that acted as timers and, at their go, Flint let the Snitch go.

Harry wasn't surprised to find that Draco flew so fast around the stadium, impressing Flint. Unfortunately, his eyesight didn't prove to be as masterly, thus, he caught the Snitch in six minutes and one second. Draco flew back down and soon it was the older Slytherin's turn, named Richard. He bumped past Harry on his way to Flint, and Harry only responded by rolling his eyes at the immaturity. Soon, Richard and the others were up in the air, and he finished two minutes later than Draco. Now it was Harry's turn.

"Good luck up there, _shorty_," Richard whispered menacingly to Harry, but Harry yet again ignored him. He followed the Slytherin team up into the air and then assumed the same position the other two had.

"Ready, Stidolph?" Flint called, the golden snitch gleaming in his hand. Harry stared at it longingly. It tempted and taunted him at the same time. A single ball of such beauty, yet Harry knew that that thing was the reason he was here. "Go!"

Immediately, Harry flew higher into the air until he obtained a bird's eye view of the pitch. Immediately, he saw a gleam and zoomed after it, ignoring the fast air in his ears and eyes. Sure enough, there was the snitch, but it seemed to notice him and flew far from him as fast as it could. Harry pursued the snitch and soon won out. He stopped and held the newly caught snitch in the air, allowing everyone to see his accomplishment. Harry didn't fail to notice Richard's gaping mouth, nor Draco's look of shock on his face. Flint had an evil look on his face, as if he just won a prize.

It didn't take long to figure out why. According to Pucey and Bletchley, it only took Harry two minutes flat to catch the Snitch. He resisted the urge to facepalm. Why couldn't he just play it low for once?

* * *

Flint didn't feel there was a need for callbacks on Thursday, so instead, he posted the notice of the new Slytherin Quidditch Team for the year 1992-1993 on the announcement board in the Slytherin common room that Friday. It was posted as follows:

* * *

_Team Slytherin 1992-1993_

_**Chasers**_

_ Marcus Flint (Captain) _

_ Adrian Pucey _

_Draco Malfoy_

_**Beaters**_

_ Lileas Cameron _

_Perrine Derrick_

_ **Keeper **_

_Miles Bletchley_

_**Seeker**_

_Harry Stidolph_

_Thank you to all who tried out!_

* * *

"I knew you were going to get it, Harry!" Phoebus proclaimed proudly. "Just wait until everyone else hears of this!" Harry nodded in agreement before he was shoved to the side. He looked to see Richard stare at the board, the look on his face becoming one of shock.

"This is rigged!" Richard complained. Then he turned to anyone who would listen, "Flint must be going mad to let a second year in as Seeker!"

"Says the guy who finished at eight minutes. You could brew a cup of tea in that time," Harry challenged, earning looks of amusement from the older snakes. Richard turned to Harry, a look of disgust on his otherwise overconfident features.

"You think you're so special," Richard protested, "Just because you caught the Snitch in two minutes. I call that a lucky break. First game rolls around, you'll be shaking so hard you can't even fly on your broom let alone find a small little flying ball."

"We'll see about that, Richard," Harry threatened, "In the meantime, you should get those boils checked out."

"What boils?"

"These. Furnunculus!"

Immediately Richard's face began to boil in multiple places, earning him laughter from his friends and classmates. Blushing a deep red, Richard rushed out from the Slytherin Common room and to the Hospital Wing, such an action earning him more laughter from students outside of Slytherin. Lileas Cameron smirked at her classmate's misfortune and went to Harry.

"Don't worry about Richard, nobody really likes him anyway," Lileas smiled, revealing a full set of white teeth, making her long nose and her forehead look smaller. "See you at practice, Stidolph."

"You too, Cameron," Harry bid her goodbye as she walked away with Derrick and other friends. Harry turned to see Draco stand at the announcement board, eying the notice. Harry paled. Draco wanted the position of Seeker too. Well, better break the ice now.

"Hey, Draco." Said boy turned to see Harry next to him, smiled a bit, then turned back to the board. Harry observed the board with him. "Chaser's not a bad position at all," Harry complimented. "You'll do great at it." Draco still didn't speak. The loss must be hitting him pretty badly. "I'm sorry Draco-"

"Don't be," Draco interrupted, his eyes still on the board. "It's not like it was close, and besides, my father was a Chaser when he was at school. It'll be following in his footsteps. He'll like that. It's not Seeker, but better than nothing, right?" Draco smiled at Harry, though Harry could still see a little bitterness in his grey irises. "I'll see you in class, Harry." With that, Draco left the Common Room, despite the protests of both Harry and Phoebus.

**A/N:**

** Ouch. I feel you, Draco, I really do. Not much else to say here, except R&R, and I don't own HP. Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	12. Chapter 12

_October 11th, 1992_

Today is a Sunday, and as such, it's a day of rest for the teachers and students of Hogwarts. Harry himself was enjoying this day off with yet another book of Gray magic in his lap, watching over the Quidditch pitch from a window ledge in the library. With the dorm being occupied by two other twelve year old boys, all of them containing a strange amount of curiosity, Harry's had to be diligent as to when he can pull out his Gray studies and when not to. It's been exhausting really. Fortunately, his roommates are getting some extra sleep in, as they should, giving Harry the chance to sneak off and read some more.

As for Harry, what started out as a simple hobby to pass the time in History of Magic, became a sort of obsession over what he'd learned. As it turns out, gray magic is a lot more complicated than light and dark magic, because it's not one over the other. Instead, it is a healthy mixture of both. Some gray wizards can perform the darkest spells while still maintaining the ability to conjure a Patronus, the latter being a purely Light spell. It's fascinating to say the least, and Harry can't fathom why there aren't more Gray wizards in the world. Though, now he thinks about it, that old coot Dumbledore might have something to do with that as well. That man's always getting his feet wet in places he shouldn't be.

But enough thinking about the nosy headmaster. Harry turned his attention away from the Hufflepuff quidditch practice outside (where he could see Adam practice swinging his bat with the other Beater) and back to his book. This book is one of the last of the Gray magic series, the series itself being very difficult to find in such a large space as the library. Titled _'Gray Magicks in Rituals'_ it describes how gray magic is actually more common in such happenings than most wizards and witches would often think. Dark rituals, especially ones in which the objective is to place tracking spells on an object or a person, are no exception. Also included are spells in which to find such tracking spells and how to remove them if need be. Curious, Harry looks around to make sure he is alone, and once Madame Pince, the librarian, leaves the close vicinity for a moment, he casts these spells quietly, and was shocked as to what he found. Containment spells on his magical abilities were on a maximum, his ability to speak Parseltongue at a minimum, and other tracking spells placed on clothes, glasses (which Harry somewhat remembers wearing a long time ago), and his wand itself.

The charms also revealed the caster of such spells: three guesses who that might be. Disgusted, Harry waited until another moment in which Pince was out of sight before he cast the proper removal spells. It took a lot of effort, and Harry became exhausted with the amount of magic he had to give, but by the end of it all, he could tell his actions were worth it. His magic felt at an all time high, and the connection between him and his wand felt much more freeing. Fortunately, he didn't need to cast so many spells because the clothes and glasses belonged to Harry Potter, not Harry Stidolph.

_What if I still had those glasses though?_ Harry looked around surprised. Was that him who thought that? Whatever it was, it was a ridiculous thought, because Harry already knows the answer. If he still wore those strange round glasses, he would be under Dumbledore's control, completely unaware of his surroundings. He might even have been friends with Weasley! Harry balked at that thought and, like all the other foreign thoughts he received, stowed the memory of that first thought away so deep that he can't even remember it anymore. That was when he barged in.

"Hey Harry, figured I'd find you here," Phoebus settled down on Harry's ledge, forcing Harry to retract his extended legs so that he is no longer taking up the whole ledge. The rusty red head himself stretched out so that his feet would be on Harry's lap. "Whatcha reading?"

"Nothing of importance, Phoebus, I promise you," Harry attempted to discreetly put the book away, hiding the cover from Phoebus' prying eyes. "Did you do that Transfiguration homework?" Phoebus frowned at Harry's feeble attempt to move the conversation past the novel in his friend's possession. His intelligent gray eyes darted back and forth between his friend and his book bag where the book lay, but put it aside and was, once again, completely at ease.

"Yeah, I did it. You?"

"Yeah. It seemed too easy to be perfectly honest," Harry's notation helped calm his nerves. Hopefully Phoebus will forget about Harry's little secret. Though he is a werewolf (and, therefore, more open-minded), Harry knows that Phoebus can be quite judgemental when he wants to be, especially of those he disagrees with. What if Phoebus found out and disagreed with Harry's new beliefs? What then?

"Yeah, but I think McGonagall's doing that on purpose. By the end of the year, we'll have gone bonkers because of that, and she'll just be sitting there in her little cat form, laughing at our misfortune and accidentally coughing up a hairball." Both boys laughed at the image of the tabby doing just that when Phoebus made a grab for Harry's bag. Harry caught on to the act immediately and went to seize his bag himself, but unfortunately he didn't catch on fast enough and soon the book bag was discarded completely, leaving Phoebus holding the book in his hands.

"_'Gray Magicks in Rituals'_," Phoebus read out loud. He then turned to Harry."You're full of surprises, Harry. I didn't know you were into this kind of stuff." Harry looked rather confused. "What?"

"Normally you wouldn't give such a politically correct response," Harry shared his thoughts, "Are you feeling well?" To emphasize his point, Harry put a hand across his friend's forehead, but it was soon knocked away.

"Knock it off!"

"Shh!" Madame Pince's sudden appearance made both boys jump. "This is the library, not the Great Hall. You want to make noise, go somewhere else!"

"Sorry, Madame Pince." The matronly librarian nodded in approval at their new quiet disposition and went away to go lecture another student about keeping quiet. As she walked away, Phoebus glanced at the cover.

"Any special reason why you have this though?" he asked, more quietly than before. Harry shrugged.

"I got my own book on Gray Magic some time ago and I figured I'd read it. But then I got done with that book so I moved on to another series. _'Gray Magicks in Rituals'_ is the fifth out of six books. There's a lot more to it than meets the eye." Phoebus nodded in agreement to Harry's report.

"Yeah, because it's incredibly hard to master. With your light magic being pulled from your core, and your dark magic being pulled from the surroundings around you, it's not hard to understand that there are hardly any Gray wizards or witches anymore, other than the lack of light _and_ dark supporters against light _or_ dark." Phoebus flipped through a few pages, deep in thought. "You thinking about being Gray?"

"I don't see why not," Harry mused. Phoebus fell silent again, and Harry held his breath. It felt like a moment of truth, a point of no return, and Harry could see the wheels turning in Phoebus' head, contemplating some deep unknown thought (unknown to Harry, anyway).

"All right," Phoebus said at last, "Let's do it."

"Do what?"

"Let's be Gray wizards. Why not? Nobody can tell us no, not even your parents."

"Phoebus," Harry began, "You already signed up for Duelling Club on my account."

"So? I'm not holding you to it." Harry raised his eyebrows in skepticism and doubt.

"Eventually you will, Feeb. That's how Slytherins work." Phoebus rolled his eyes.

"But we're not average Slytherins, are we?" Phoebus looked around suspiciously, making sure nobody was within hearing range. Harry checked as well, and when both were done, Phoebus continued, "We'll be working together side by side for the rest of our lives. You're going to lead the Tribe to something great, as sappy as that sounds, and I want to be a part of that. I'll keep fighting with you, and I know that payment will come in the form of a life worth living." Harry smiled gratefully at Phoebus before hiding it beneath his mask.

"It's a wonder you're not a Hufflepuff, Feeb," Harry playfully chided, "That speech sounds like something the Fat Friar would come up with." Phoebus' nose scrunched at the mention of the Hufflepuff house and ghost.

"Don't get used to it," he advised, but Harry could see the pride in the amber strikes of those gray orbs. The tender moment over, Phoebus sat down and opened Harry's book to a random page.

"You can't just start somewhere random, Phoebus," Harry scolded, and he snatched the book out of Phoebus' hands. Phoebus only crossed his arms and huffed frustratedly.

"Alright then, _Professor Stidolph_," Harry rolled his eyes at the nickname, "Where should I start?" It didn't take long for Harry to come up with a solution.

"I still have that first book if you want to borrow it." Phoebus nodded and the two strutted out of the library shoulder to shoulder, passing by Leclair and Granger. Harry winked at Leclair who blushed furiously, though out of anger or out of embarrassment Harry couldn't say, and Phoebus imitated a beaver to Granger, making her blush as well. The two then smirked at each other in amusement before continuing down to the dungeons.

"You do realize," Phoebus warned, "that the others will want to do this as well." Harry glared at his best friend.

"Not so long as you keep your mouth shut." Phoebus only laughed.

"Like that's going to happen."

* * *

With the full moon to guide them, Harry and his pack ran as fast and as far as they could, the wind racing in their ears and the light guiding them happily on the now well-beaten path from the year before. Harry loved moments like this, when he and the others fully transformed. He could feel the power and the sense of belonging when running with the other werewolves. Looking around, Harry could tell the others felt that same feeling of happiness.

Finally, the group stopped to take a short break. Melanie rested on a patch of soft grass, while Phoebus and Selene sat together next to a tree trunk. Adam kept watch, looking over the vast forest around the pack, looking and listening for possible intruders. Harry's stomach growled loudly, much to his embarrassment, and the other wolves chuckled at this slight difficulty. Hungry still from the deer from before, Harry managed to catch a small chipmunk nearby and chomped off on that, leaving out the bones and such.

After a few more moments of rest, Harry saw the first patches of daylight reach the night sky and was about to howl, but soon made a small yip and hid somewhere safe. The others saw what Harry saw and followed suit, almost getting caught by the massive group approaching.

A centaur pack, this one of the more nasty centaurs, Harry realized. Unlike the other herd, these centaurs don't take kindly to werewolves for whatever reason. Fortunately, Harry's pack has managed to do a good job of steering clear of their path so far. Harry held in his breath and prayed to Mother Luna for sanctuary as one of the centaurs came close to his hiding spot and sniffed around.

She seemed to answer his prayers as the centaur huffed and walked away. Relieved, Harry made silent signals to one of the other wolves (who exactly he couldn't tell, it was dark from where he was), but instead of passing on the signal, that wolf made a howl, immediately catching the herd's attention. With no other option, Harry and the others ran off together, hoping to outrun the angry mob.

All five wolves ran together and ran faster than they ever had before. But the centaur herd was faster, and there were many of them. Eventually, Harry realized they had no choice but to run out onto the Hogwarts grounds and out of the Forbidden Forest, and he made it known before running in that direction, stealthily avoiding the stampede surrounding them.

He stopped at the edge of the Forest, though, and noticed that none of the other wolves were there. Instead, he saw small shapes of them run off in different directions. Harry turned towards the castle and noticed one of them run onto the bridge. Relieved, Harry began to run to catch up with him or her, but before he could do so, he was intercepted by a raging centaur. Harry backed off in fright.

This centaur must be the leader, for he is the largest out of all of them. Dirty, tangled black hair, so long that it rivaled that of Rapunzel, the maiden of long locks, stained by something that smelled of blood. His humanoid half was covered in tribe-like tattoos, like Richmond's on his right arm. Instead of just the one, though, there were many of them, all in different colors: some dark blue, others pitch black like the centaur's intimidating, angry eyes.

Holding his spear above his head, the leader was ready to impale Harry straight in the head, but both were caught off guard by a howl from far off. However, it sounded more horse like than wolf like. The leader then growled as if in frustration and defeat, before using the dull end of his spear to whack Harry across the head. Instantly, he was down, and the leader ran off with the other centaurs following him.

Harry struggled to keep his eyes open, more or less stand up. With his vision fading fast, Harry howled loudly, desperate for anyone to hear him. Soon afterwards, his wolf ears picked up a faint howl in the distance. That's one. Then another, then a third. Harry would have smiled if he could. But what about that fourth wolf? Who ran to the castle? Harry stood to investigate, but he managed to get so far as past the border when the sunlight hit him dead in the face, forcing his transformation back and his consciousness to slip away.

**A/N:**

** Voilá! Chapter 12 is posted! For those of you reading this story, thank you, but there aren't as much as I originally thought. I'm worried because that means that this story is terrible (which I highly doubt), or nobody knows this story exists for whatever reasons. If you readers could advertise this story just a wee bit whether it's on Facebook or Tumblr that'd be awesome! Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	13. Chapter 13

_October 31st, 1992_

"Professor Sprout's on some vacation, she's been gone for weeks now!"

"I know, what's up do you think?"

"I hear it has something to do with her cousin in America."

"That's ridiculous, she doesn't have any cousins."

"Says you!"

And the argument went on and on. Eventually, Harry and Melanie had to pull Phoebus and Selene apart before they finally stopped their heated debate.

Since it was a Saturday, and the day of Hallowe'en, it wouldn't be fair for Harry to say that the Grints are the only ones feeling fidgety or argumentative. Remembering the troll from last year, there seems to be a certain kind of doom hanging over the school, as if everyone is mentally counting down to the most dramatic moment of the day to occur. But Harry has done his best to assure his friends and himself that nothing will really come to pass – just a normal day of relaxation, and the first Duelling Club meeting with Professor Goldilocks.

Eventually, three o'clock rolled around and it was time for the students 2nd-7th years to gather in the Great Hall where the meeting was to take place. To everyone's surprise the normal elongated tables are gone: instead, there is only one extended platform with a long blue runner on top. On this platform was Professor Lockhart in dazzling robes.

"So he's going to cluck around like a rooster. What else is new?" Phoebus whispered to Harry who chuckled in response.

"Welcome, all you lovely, bright young pupils!" Lockhart's engorgio'ed voice could be heard all too clearly across the hall. "Gather round, gather round!" When the students obeyed, Lockhart began his flamboyant and well-rehearsed speech. "In light of the events surrounding my predecessor in the year past, Professor Dumbledore has allowed me to start this little Duelling Club. What is it for, you may ask? I'll tell you!" At this, Lockhart put on his most dramatic act yet, at least until tomorrow. "You must train yourselves in preparation for anything Dark, anything dangerous, that may come your way. Being a veteran in such events, I've taken it upon myself to enlighten you all. If you wish to know more of such happenings, read my autobiography." The girls once more swooned and the boys all rolled their eyes in annoyance. "Now that that little introduction is out of the way, allow me to introduce to you my assistant...Professor Severus Snape!"

All the students turned to see their greasy-haired Potions master arise from the sides and join Lockhart on the platform, looking every bit as reluctant and disdainful as Harry himself felt.

"Dumbledore must have bribed Snape to do this," Draco muttered.

"Or Snape owes Dumbledore. Either way," Harry interjected, to which Draco responded with a single apprehensive shrug.

"I am not your assistant," Snape literally growled. However, his remark went in one ear and out the other as Lockhart ignorantly pushed the complaint aside.

"Snape and I will partake in a little demonstration now to educate you young ones on what is to be expected in a duel. Don't worry, though," Lockhart leaned in close to one of the girls as if sharing a secret, "you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him." Said girl fainted on Granger, who didn't even bat an eyelash at her classmate. Instead, all eyes were on the two professors as they began the proper introduction into a duel. Harry looked around and noticed Leclair standing not too far off. Casually he leaned over and tugged on her robe sleeve to get her attention. He got it, and she rolled her eyes at his behavior until he made his offer:

"Five Galleons that Snape will win." Leclair's perfect porcelain face drew into a contemplative look, her silver eyes debating whether to accept the challenge. Granger, who happened to notice what was going on, begged her friend not to take part in it.

"Elle, don't do it. He's only baiting you." Leclair looked once to her friend, then back at Harry, before she shook Harry's hand confidently. Smirking, Harry could already feel the money in his hand as the men before them walked off in opposite directions.

"Ready?" Lockhart asked, but before Snape could reply, he gave the countdown, "1...2...3!"

"Expelliarmus!" Professor Snape's offensive spell took Lockhart completely by surprise. In fact, the force of the spell not only caused Lockhart's wand to jump out of his hand, but pushed him to the edge of the platform. He would have fallen off if not for his fan girls catching him and pushing him back onto the stage.

Once he was able to stand again, Lockhart gave Snape a dashing smirk before reaching for his wand...before remembering that it was forced out of his hand and is now nowhere to be found.

"Wand's out of his hand, I win," Harry whispered to Leclair. Groaning, she coughed up. "Thank you."

Meanwhile, Lockhart simply laughed and, as usual, made things up on the spot.

"Quite a clever ruse, Professor Snape, but everyone knows I was just going easy on y–"

"Then perhaps it would be best to teach the students how to block offensive spells," Professor Snape inclined his head just a little, "Professor." Most if not all of the boys snickered at the comment while Harry made mental notes to give Professor Snape more respect in the near future.

"An excellent suggestion, Severus," Goldilocks replied cheerfully. "Let's have a little contest, shall we? A little brute force might show them a world of good, won't it?" The question, aimed at Snape, had no response, therefore leaving the blonde man on his own. "Very well. Let's start with the second years, shall we? Mr. Weasley, come on up!"

Soon the fiery red headed Weasley stood on the platform, his pride shone on his freckled face, like a toad puffing out his throat. As Weasley prepared himself, Lockhart started to call up another student, but Snape stepped in.

"You chose Weasley, Professor, and if I may, it is now my turn." Lockhart, knowing better than to argue, inclined with a small bow, and Professor Snape started to think on a choice. However, it didn't take that long before the tall man made his choice: "Mr. Stidolph."

All of Harry's friends, fellow Slytherins, and Harry was sure his admirers, cheered him on as he climbed onto the platform from his spot near the pedestal and delicately pulled his holly wand out of his dark leather wand holster which was secured fast on his right leg. The two rivals met at the same central spot as the teachers before them, and conducted the same beginning ceremony.

"Better start writing your will, Stidolph," Weasley's threat, once again, went over Harry's head. Smirking, Harry said nothing, but as the two walked away, Harry began to summon the proper magical levels necessary for what he wanted to do.

Since Harry removed those ghastly tracking and limitation charms on himself and his items, Harry's felt more powerful than at any other time before. His already phenomenal performances in classes (especially Transfiguration and Charms) have only gotten better. Harry winced somewhat at his lack of successes in DADA, but in his defense, Lockhart is an idiot. Never mind that now, though. Now, Harry can finally put his previously inaccessible magic to the test.

The two boys reached the appropriate ends of the platforms, just within hitting range of their wands. They raised their wands at each other, and waited for their Defense professor to give the cue.

"Ready?" At both students' nod, Lockhart began the countdown: "1...2...3!"

"Lacarnum Inflamarae!" Weasley's spell caused a blue fire to emit from the end of his well used wand. Unfortunately, though, the spell wasn't meant to be used offensively, and thus, soon died out on its own. Harry could only laugh.

"You've got to be kidding, Weasley," Harry barked, "Oh come on, you have to admit it's pretty funny, you'd be laughing yourself. In fact...Rictusempra!" The spell hit Weasley dead on, but he didn't fall to the ground or anything. Instead, Weasley opened his mouth, only to burst out laughing.

"Hahahaha...Win...Win...bahahahaha!" Weasley rolled over on the floor, his laughter extremely contagious as soon everyone in the Hall was laughing, except for Professor Snape. Finally, Harry decided to give Weasley some air and cut him off with a leg-locking curse, which not only prevented movement but also his vocal cords. Harry casually walked over to the now petrified Gryffindor with a smug smirk on his face. "Now what to do with you...shall I let you keep fighting, or end your humiliation now?" The small laughter from his supporters only helped to boost Harry's ego.

To his surprise, however, a small objection popped up from the crowd.

"Professors, he's not allowed to do that," Leclair piped up, her silver eyes filled with such hope. Pity, really. So beautiful too, if only her faith wasn't in the wrong person.

"I'm afraid, Miss Leclair," Snape explained, sounding less than apologetic, "that the rules of a duel do not apply as whole-heartedly as Quidditch might." After a brief look to the duellers, then back at the girl, Snape added, "Unless you wish to be Weasley's second, then I assure you, there's not much you can do."

"I'll gladly stand in." With that, Leclair hoisted herself up onto the platform while Weasley was dragged off to the Hospital Wing. Granger's eyes grew as wide as saucers while the other Gryffindors began to egg her on, eager for some real fighting. Leclair smiled at her classmates, and Harry was sure that her beauty would have blinded him, but he can't let that get in the way. His pride and his reputation are at stake. Professor Lockhart was all over this plot twist.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is something you do not see every other day," he commended, "Two of the finest students in my class competing against each other...can't you just feel the tension in the air?" Oh, Harry could feel it all right, but he's pretty sure it's a different kind of tension altogether. Nevertheless, he completed the same beginning process of the duel with Leclair with a passive face, as did she.

The two turned and walked away from each other, Harry aware of every step she takes and of every step he takes. When they're far enough apart, they take the correct stance and wait for the indication to begin.

"Ready?" Lockhart's annoying voice peeped like before. "1...2...3!"

"Incendio!" Before Harry knew it, hot fire was coming his way, but fortunately he was prepared.

"Ardor Glacio!" he cried, and just as the fire hit, the flames engulfed him, but not touching him. Now it was Harry's turn.

"Tarantellegra!" his voice making a prominent dent in the atmosphere around them. Thinking fast, Leclair dodged the spell and shot an 'Expelliarmus' Harry's way, which he also dodged.

Back and forth the spells went, and the audience seemed rather surprised that neither was willing to give up five minutes into the round. Harry could feel the same fire that Leclair holds in her eyes, and he wasn't willing to let that go anytime soon. The more they fought, the more Harry began to truly admire her. It was as if the two were embraced in some dangerous dance, a tango of sorts. The more they danced, the more he fell in love. All the more enchanted and enraptured, Harry didn't even notice the leg-locker until it was too late.

"Petrificus Totalus!" It didn't even hit him until the spell itself did. After falling to the floor as if dead, Harry tried desperately to struggle out of the charm, but alas, it was no good. Thus, Leclair was made the victim of the match.

"Well done, Miss Leclair, well done!" Lockhart gave Leclair a handshake and a hug as congratulations before promptly guiding her (a.k.a. pushing her) off the stage where her joyful Gryffindors waited for her. Harry himself was guided gently off the platform by his fellow Slytherins and was carried into the Hospital Wing. Of course all the gentleness, Harry knew, meant that a storm was coming, and when he was un-Petrified, the brutal weather revealed itself.

"That was terrible!"

"You were winning, Stidolph, winning!"

"We'll be the banes of the Gryffindors for months now!"

"I hope you're proud of yourself!"

Naturally, most of these outbursts came from Draco and Phoebus. For Harry's other friends and admirers, they looked on pitifully, but didn't say anything. They know better. Draco and Phoebus only do it because they're among his best friends and can do stuff like that.

"What are you talking about?" Selene defended Harry. "He was brilliant, and besides, duelling isn't about winning or losing!"

"Yeah, unless the other player wants to kill you," Malfoy exclaimed matter-of-factly. "You lost to Leclair, of all people!"

"Not very surprising, if you ask me," Adam interjected, "Harry's always had a soft spot for Leclair." Harry looked to the Hufflepuff, confused at first, then somewhat ashamed.

"It's that obvious?" he asked, a little sheepishly. Adam only nodded sagely. Draco shook his head in frustration and walked away.

"I don't understand it," the others heard him muttering to himself as he walked out of the Hospital Wing. Just then, Madame Pomfrey appeared.

"Ah, Mr. Stidolph. You haven't been here since that Quidditch practice two weeks ago. A new record," she complemented him sarcastically. Harry rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine, Madame Pomfrey, I was just petrified–"

"All the same," the nurse interrupted, her matronly eyes glowing, "It's best to get you checked up in case there's anything out of the ordinary." Harry obeyed, although annoyed to do so, and within ten minutes he was out the door.

"Nice to see Madame Pomfrey cheerful as usual," Phoebus noted, earning him a laugh from the others.

"Elle you could have been hurt!" Immediately Harry's group sobered up as they leaned in against the wall to hear the conversation around the corner.

"You're starting to sound like my Mama, Hermione," Leclair reprimanded, "I told you I'd be alright, and I got to show Stidolph a thing or two." Weasley groaned.

"I wish I didn't miss it, Elle. It must have been fantastic, according to what my brothers were saying. You're amazing." Harry frowned at the admiration in Weasley's voice, and Leclair laughed nervously.

"Thanks, Ron." After a moment of silence, Leclair found her excuse to leave. "I have to go study a bit more in the library. I'll catch up with you two, all right?" Both Weasley and Granger bid their goodbyes and now Leclair is alone. Harry turned to the others who were behind him.

"You lot go on. I'll see you later." His friends nodded in understanding and Phoebus whispered to him,

"Go get 'em, tiger." This gave Harry a small blush and Phoebus a small cackle as the group walked away to go eat some dinner. Harry could hear Leclair approach the corner and took this as his signal to come out of hiding. She gasped upon seeing him, but when realizing who it is, she gave an impressive look of disdain, for a Gryffindor.

"Leclair," Harry greeted warmly.

"Go away, Stidolph," she warned, but unfortunately for her, Harry wasn't going to take any of it.

"Is that any way to talk to a classmate? I just wanted to congratulate you on that match earlier." Leclair rolled her eyes and averted herself from being touched in any way by him.

"I know you Slytherins. You always have an ulterior motive." Harry gently grabbed her arms, but at her prying away, his face fell.

"But what if I didn't have an ulterior motive? What's wrong with a 'congratulations'?"

"You'd be lying if you said you didn't. And..." Leclair paused a bit at this, a little confused at the latter question. Harry wanted to step closer, but being the wiser one, he kept his distance. "I suppose there's nothing wrong with the complement, except you always have something up your sleeve."

"That's a bad thing?" This stopped Leclair again. Harry took this as his chance, "Look, Leclair, I'm not as bad as you make me out to be. Really, if you just gave me a chance–"

"Ah ha!" Leclair interrupted triumphantly. "Proof: you always have something up your sleeve!" Harry groaned in aggravation.

"Okay, yes you caught the bad guy, I was using my felicitations to talk to you. Are you happy now?" Leclair stopped again. Harry internally groaned. Why is this so confusing? Why are girls so confusing? Before Harry could ask any of those questions, Leclair growled in frustration.

"Just leave me alone!" she cried as she stomped up the stairs. Not being one to give up (or to let her have the last word, or both), Harry followed her, for the first time feeling that brash Gryffindor side that his biological parents would have been proud of.

He continued to follow her up and down the stairs, and through each hallway and corridor that she could find. Finally, Harry's eyes caught her snaking into the library.

_Ah ha! Nowhere left to run!_ Harry's triumphant smirk made itself known as he pushed the doors open. Inside the library was empty, everyone else going to dinner. Madame Pince was reading her book and, upon seeing Harry, rolled her eyes at the Slytherin's antics and went back to reading. Harry ignored the bingy old bat though. Instead his eyes were focused on catching the slightest little hint, the smallest clue that will lead him to her. However, he was surprised to find that he could come up with nothing, therefore, Harry sniffed.

Not a big one, just a small little whiff with his nose to point him in the right direction. Being a werewolf, Harry's senses are especially more sensitive than a normal human's, and he can't imagine a time where this proved to be a disadvantage. He got it; a scent that lead straight to the Restricted Section.

_If she thinks the word 'Restricted' is going to keep me out,_ he thought victoriously as he snuck in through the dark barred doors. He sniffed once again, and continued to follow the scent until his nose found another, more disturbing smell. The smell of a rotting corpse.

Now Harry's mind is on a high alert. If Marielle is hurt in any way, then a lot of questions would need to be asked. First off, is she seriously hurt? Obviously yes because it's a rotting corpse. Wait...rotting? So it's not Marielle because he just saw her today, right? If Marielle truly was the rotting corpse then she would have been missing...right?

To Harry's relief, Leclair is just fine. Her eyes as big as saucers, and her porcelain face unusually white, but other than that she's okay.

"Leclair, what is it? Are you hurt?" The fear must have made Leclair forget of their little argument earlier because, to Harry's surprise, she hugged him and began to cry. "Hey, shhh, it's all right, it's going to be okay," Harry found his arms around her immediately, himself whispering soothing words into her ear. It wasn't until he saw the source of the smell that he understood what Leclair was crying about.

A human corpse, lying on the floor in a pool of its own blood. Judging by the smell and the blood staining the dark wood floor, Harry could surmise that this corpse has been here for what...a week? Maybe two?

"It–" Leclair spoke for the first time, her Gryffindor courage helping her push away from Harry and find her own balance. "It's so terrible." Harry didn't even bother to wipe the tears off his shoulder as he leaned down close to the body. He sniffed again and, immediately, connected the dots.

"It's Professor Sprout."

**A/N:**

** And the most dramatic moment of the story thus far! As always, R&R, and I don't own anything that J.K. Rowling owns! Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	14. Chapter 14

"Who would do such a horrible thing?" Leclair pushed her dark red hair out of her watery eyes. Harry leaned in close and was surprised at what he found.

"More like what," he noted, taking a quill and carefully pushing Professor Sprout's bloody hat and hair out of her eyes. "Looks like some sort of creature got her."

"But how is that possible? No sane beast would come into Hogwarts," Leclair protested, summoning up the courage to take a closer look at the body. Harry suddenly paled.

The centaur herd chase. The separation. But it can't be.

Now fearing the worst, Harry looked closer at the wounds and, sure enough, the most visible of the bite marks looked like a werewolf's.

"Why don't you go get help, Marielle?" Harry asked, not wanting to alarm her any further. Thankfully, Marielle didn't protest and obeyed, running out of the Restricted Section so quickly, it was as if she was a blur. Now having some time to himself, Harry examined the wounds some more.

There are three large slashes across Professor Sprout's face. Though very bloody, Harry highly doubts that these face wounds are responsible for her death. They're only skin deep at best. Cautiously, Harry took out his wand from his wand holster and cast a small lifting charm on Sprout, turning her over slightly so that he could get a better look at her. Her arms, legs, and torso are stained with blood, though again Harry doubts that there are any real wounds besides scratches. Finally, Harry's attention came to Professor Sprout's neck. A large chunk of it is missing, leaving only a small fraction of flesh holding the head to the body. This clearly killed her. With that mystery solved, Harry cleaned off any blood on his hands and robes with a quick _Aguamenti_ and walked out of the Restricted Section.

He looked about, and is surprised that nobody else is here yet. What's taking Leclair so long? Frustrated, Harry walked out of the library, failing to notice the tense atmosphere around him as he walked along the hallways to find someone...anyone...to help.

Finally, he found some students. But when he looked some more, he found that there are a lot of students in this particular hallway. What's going on? His nose picked up on more blood, so Harry pushed his way through the fastly growing crowd and found another sight, this one just as disturbing as Professor Sprout.

Water lay in the hallway everywhere, soaking his shoes, but that's the least of his concerns at the moment. On the wall before him the elderly cat Mrs. Norris hung on a wall, wrapped on a wall torch by her tail, completely motionless. Another dead one?

The most disturbing, however, was what was on the wall itself. Deep red blood painted on the stone bricks, spelling out a delicious scent for his nose and a doomed message on the wall:

_"The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened; _

_Enemies of the Heir BEWARE"_

"'Enemies of the Heir, Beware?'" repeated Draco loudly, close to where Harry was standing. Smirking, the platinum blonde turned to the Gryffindors (where, Harry noticed, Leclair had joined them) and was about to say something, but Harry stopped him.

"Now is not a good time, Drake," he warned silently, and he gestured to the people approaching the scene. All students turned to see Headmaster Dumbledore, followed by Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Madame Pomfrey. Argus Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts, also joined the group and balked at the sight. Mrs. Norris was his cat, after all, and the only one he's really close to. The poor man must be in some serious shock right now.

Professor Dumbledore seemed to read Harry's mind as he turned to the nurse.

"Madame Pomfrey, if you could please escort Mr. Filch and his cat to the Hospital Wing, I think that would be most appreciated." The nurse bowed to Dumbledore and gently took the cat off of the wall before taking her and her owner away.

"The rest of you," Professor Dumbledore instructed the students, his eyes passing over the crowd, "retreat to your rooms immediately." Harry, all too glad to leave, turned to go but felt a tug on one of his robe sleeves. He turned to see Leclair, an expectant look on her face.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well what?" he asked.

"Are we going to tell them or not?" Right. Harry forgot about that. But if it gives him a chance to be closer to Leclair, without her complaining, then that's just fine with him. Without a word, Leclair dragged Harry to where the teachers stood talking, and Harry didn't make a noise either. Maybe he'll speak when he calms his fast beating heart.

"Professors," Leclair's song bird voice brought Harry out of his stupor. "There's something we need to tell you." The three of them turned and eyed the two second years suspiciously.

"Yes, Ms. Leclair?" Professor McGonagall's cat-like eyes sharpened themselves. "What is it?" Leclair took a breath before explaining the story: the conversation between the two, the chase to the library (though Harry wouldn't call it a chase, but that's just him), and the discovery in the Restricted Section. To Harry's surprise, nobody really reacted to what Leclair was telling them. Instead, they sort of just stood there, as if waiting for some cue to act. For some reason this angered Harry.

"Did you not hear a word she just said?" Harry demanded. "We found a bloody corpse in the library that's been dead for weeks now. Oh, and did we mention that said body is your colleague?"

"Mr. Stidolph, calm yourself." Snape's order helped Harry calm down just a little. He must have still been angry, though, because what Snape did next shocked everybody. He took Harry by the shoulders and guided him to where Harry was now standing beside Snape, his hands protectively grasping his shoulders. Without warning, McGonagall attempted the same thing with Leclair. "I think it best that we investigate," Snape offered.

"Severus, they could have just been confused. If there is actually a dead body in the library, wouldn't we know about it?" Dumbledore objected.

"Have you forgotten Professor Sprout's sudden dissappearance, Headmaster?" Snape challenged. Obviously he had, because Dumbledore's dimmed twinkle from before is now completely gone.

"Very well then," Dumbledore spoke at last. "I shall go to the Restricted Section and make a quick inspection. In the meantime, Severus, Minerva, please escort your students to my office. I wish to speak to them in hopes of unraveling this mystery." Both professors bowed respectfully to the Headmaster, then did as they were told.

"I'm sorry about my outburst, Professor," Harry quietly turned to Professor Snape as they walked. Snape nodded once to show he heard Harry's apology.

"Next time, Mr. Stidolph," Snape advised, "I'd use that strange temper of yours in a duel." Harry winced somewhat. Seems Phoebus and Draco aren't the only ones feeling sour about that fight.

* * *

It wasn't until some time later that Professor Dumbledore joined the four in his office, actually looking his age for once.

"Mr. Stidolph and Ms. Leclair's accounts are perfectly correct," Professor Dumbledore reported as he sat down on his chair. "The Aurors are in the Restricted Section as we speak. According to the coroner on the scene, Professor Sprout had been dead for almost three weeks now, which corresponds to the time in which she was reported missing. There are many scratches on her face and body, but the large chunk from her neck is, quite obviously, how she died." Professor McGonagall is in tears at this point, so Dumbledore did the noble thing by handing the Deputy Headmistress a handkerchief. "There, there, Minerva," Dumbledore soothed, "I know how close you and Pomona were."

Harry glanced over at Leclair who had her head bowed, a solemn look on her face. She looked up at him, and he quickly looked away.

"Headmaster," McGonagall finally mustered after the initial downpour had ebbed, "Is it really necessary to talk to these children now? It is past their curfews and I'm sure that–"

"I will only hold them here for a few questions, nothing more," Dumbledore assured with that same twinkle in his eyes. At once Minerva relaxed. Dumbledore then shoo'ed the professors out of the door, leaving only Harry and Leclair.

"Now then," Dumbledore began, his eyes fully on the pupils before him, "Leclair you have already explained your side of the story, but is there anything else that you wish to tell me?" Harry didn't look at Leclair. He didn't want to give her that kind of stress. Instead, he watched the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, one of the previous headmasters of Hogwarts. He silently snored away, content with his own little portrait world and nothing else.

"Mr. Stidolph?" Dumbledore's calling to Harry brought him back to reality. Leclair didn't look at Harry, of which he was relieved, and Dumbledore continued: "I would like to hear your side of the story. What happened?" Seeing no other option, Harry obeyed, relaying every detail he could remember. He didn't tell Dumbledore of his own findings or suspicions, as that would certainly make the old coot keep an eye on Harry and his friends; the last thing any of them want.

However, halfway through his story, Harry began to feel woozy. He gripped the end of his chair with both hands and steadied himself before focusing on the wooziness. He found it in his own mind, and promptly pushed it out to the best of his abilities. When Harry was done telling the story, the wooziness went away completely.

Dumbledore said nothing. Instead he stood and walked over to a bird's perch. There, on the perch, was a gorgeous bird of flame colored feathers, and a warm disposition around him. Clearly a phoenix.

"Beautiful creatures, phoenixes," The old man drabbled, "Reliable birds with a good sense of will and determination about them." He then turned to Leclair, his blue eyes sparkling with warmth. "You remind me of a phoenix, Ms. Leclair. Your performance in the Duelling Club today shows this." Leclair blushed under the Headmaster's warm gaze, making Harry want to roll his eyes. "Alright then, off you go," Dumbledore said cheerfully and, with that, both students were shown out the door where Professors Snape and McGonagall were waiting.

**A/N:**

** Yeah...not much to say here...except that is this not proof that I am not dead? As always, please R&R, and everything in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling except my own characters! Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	15. Chapter 15

If anything, Albus Dumbledore would label the entirety of the circumstances as curious. First the headaches, then the tutoring, and now the memories that have recently been accessed through mere Legilimacy. It's simply, just...curious.

First off, the boy is an orphan. Given the memories that Dumbledore accessed, it's clear he didn't have a very good life before, and Dumbledore felt relief for the boy when he experienced the memory of being offered adoption instead of the pitiful living he abandoned. Seeing the boy now, Dumbledore knows that the adoption had done him a world of good. However, the boy is a Slytherin, and one of the most popular ones in the house as far as he can remember. Do the other Slytherins know of Mr. Stidolph's family situation? Probably not, otherwise they wouldn't even look at him, let alone engage with him the way they do.

Maybe it's something else then? Could it be Mr. Stidolph's bright emerald eyes that shone their ways into people's hearts with just a blink? Could it be his pure black locks that were long enough just to barely cover his eyes, giving him that look of a mysterious young boy with secrets galore? Or is it his clever charm? Or maybe it's all three?

Dumbledore took out a succulent sweet from his dish on his desk. Unwrapping it, and popping it in his mouth, he speculated on another memory – the memory of Mr. Stidolph becoming a werewolf. Does anyone else know who Mr. Stidolph is? Being the clever beast that he is, it's possible that Stidolph uses his breed status as a way of intimidating the other Slytherins into coersion. But that seems very unlikely. Mr. Stidolph, despite his house, is an honorable character at best. But the question still stands: how is it that Mr. Stidolph is so popular when he's an orphan _and_ a werewolf?

Then another thought occurred to Dumbledore. Could it have something to do with the boy's headaches last year in Quirrell's class? The only logical explanation for those, Dumbledore could decipher, is that young Harry was somehow able to detect Lord Voldemort on the back of Quirrell's skull. Again, how? None of it makes sense, but deep down, Dumbledore knows that these are connected somehow.

For some reason the answer is eluding Dumbledore, and without the proper evidence, his suspicions could be seen as unfounded, not to mention he couldn't access all of the memories tucked away in that little head. But, Albus Dumbledore is a patient man. He will wait for the answer to reveal itself.

* * *

It's extraordinairy what you can do as a werewolf. T, fully launched into his notes from what he discovered just a few full moons ago, can't seem to grasp how it's possible, instead, it just works. Fortunately nobody else knows of this. Ha! And they expect that brat Stidolph to be the smart one. Just wait until he finds out what's in store for him. Speaking of which...

Hurriedly but for no apparent reason, T fetched a random blank parchment from the top of a counter nearby and his ink and inkwell from his bedside table. He writes in a manner that's almost psychotic so the brat won't recognize the writing, but still legible, and as he writes, the Muse of Tragedy comes to him, whispering words of horrors beyond his wildest imagination, and through those words, T composes the next letter and sends it off, almost giggling with excitement as he imagines the look on the wretch's face when he reads it.

* * *

_Dear Mr. Stidolph,_

_ It has come to my attention that you stupidly ignored the obvious warning in my letter last December. You will pay for that dearly, I promise you. I gave you the chance to walk out now while there are still bodies to feed, but now I'm not feeling so merciful anymore. Professor Sprout makes a good example, doesn't she? Soon you won't know who to trust, and when that day comes, I will kill you most happily. Your days are numbered._

_ I am, your dear friend,_

_ T_

* * *

**A/N:**

** So, Dumbledore's starting to catch on, and T is getting more excited...but about what? Well I can't tell you, not yet! However, I will tell you that more and more stuff is going to happen, so stay tuned! Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


	16. Chapter 16

_November 2nd, 1992_

Something is definitely wrong with Draco, that much Harry knows for certain. Ever since the posting of the Quidditch team came out, Draco's been quiet, nervous, and, dare he say it, _compliant_.

Though it's been growing over time, it never got quite so prominent as it did earlier that day during Herbology. Due to Professor Sprout's murder, the position of Herbology teacher and Head of Hufflepuff house had been vacated. The Head of House matter, though, was quickly resolved; Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies professor for 3rd years and up, had volunteered to take the position, and as a result all Hufflepuffs now report to her. Harry isn't surprised to find that quiet students such as Adam like her as she isn't a very popular teacher among most of the students, however she is rumored to be a good amateur therapist.

But then there was the matter of the Herbology profession. Unfortunately, only suitable replacements can inquire before the beginning of the next year, and since it's already November, it'll be another eight months before the new Herbology professor could walk through the stone walls among his or her colleagues and students. It doesn't help that Professor McGonagall is still grieving over her old friend, and that she gives out excessive amounts of homework in class as a result. But Harry can sympathize; hardly any werewolves live to a ripe old age, even if they live in Tribes.

It also doesn't help that a certain egotistical, blonde professor stepped up to step in as the Herbology professor for the rest of the year, since nobody else would. Harry doesn't know all of the details, but he's pretty sure all it took was a swishing of his cape, some charming words to Dumbledore, and he was in.

Before his own Herbology class, the rumors of Professor Lockhart's 'shining' talent with plants reached the sensitive werewolf's ears as it did everyone else in his pack. Apparently, Lockhart used a severing charm on some poor girl's hair thinking that they were roots, was grabbed twice by the same Venomous Tentacula and was almost killed both times, and accidentally poked a Mimbulus Mimbletonia so hard that it squirted Stinksap directly onto his robes and into his flowing locks. And that was all in one morning.

Despite the laughter at the moronic man, Harry couldn't help but feel nervous. At this rate, something terrible was bound to happen in the second year Herbology class for Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, and he's not sure who the victim will be – Lockhart or the students. Sure, cut hair is terrible, but it's better than cut arms, and Harry likes his limbs attached to his body thank you very much. However, there was no way around it, and after lunch, Lockhart met the students at Greenhouse 2, still avoiding Harry completely, even eye contact.

"Gather round, students!" Lockhart announced, his usual dazzling smile on display for all to see. Begrudgingly, the students obeyed, weary of the full pots in front of them. The pots themselves weren't anything unusual, but the long stems shooting out of the earth seemed to quiver at random points in time, as did the dirt itself, and Harry was careful not to touch it for fear of provoking it. Phoebus noticed Harry's fear.

"What's wrong, Harry? Scared of a little dirt?" Harry glared at his friend, but said nothing, as he could tell by judging Phoebus' face going a little pale that he is also a little scared.

"Put on your gloves, please!" Lockhart cried out, and did as he instructed so that everyone else could follow suit. "Now then, Hufflepuffs, Slytherins, I'm sure you've heard about a few situations in previous classes-"

"That's a word for it," Harry murmured to Draco amusedly. To his surprise, however, Draco only shrugged. No laugh. Not even a smirk.

"But fear not!" Lockhart continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted by the sudden murmur of the class, "You are completely, 100% safe." Phoebus raised a hand at this. Lockhart immediately noticed the hand and must have been a little relieved that it wasn't Harry who raised his hand. "Yes, Mr.- ah..."

"Grint, sir," Phoebus replied with a smile. The dimwitted professor took the smile all too kindly and gave the Slytherin his own.

"Of course. Yes, Mr. Grint?" Harry did his best to hide his smile. Knowing Phoebus, he knew a good burn was coming, and he focused on the Venus Fly Trap behind Professor Lockhart's head as he listened to what his friend had to say.

"Well, I don't want to seem too scared, and I trust what you're saying, but..." Phoebus took a dramatic pause before going on, "is our hair safe too?" Pansy and Daphne both giggled, and everyone else in the classroom snickered a bit as well. Knowing the redheaded Slytherin, it was natural for him to pull something like that on someone he clearly didn't respect at all, and sure enough, Lockhart's face went from white to red in an instant.

"Ah, yes, a little good-natured joke," Lockhart said somewhat darkly after a while. "That will be 10 points from Slytherin, Mr. Grint." Phoebus only shrugged, not really caring in the first , Lockhart resumed his dramatic lesson, "As I was saying, no harm will come to you in this room. All you need are your gloves and your brains. Now, who can tell me..." Lockhart paused dramatically as he grasped the stems of his own pot rather tightly, "what this is?!" At those last words, Lockhart pulled on the stems, revealing the last thing Harry ever imagined there to be.

Instead of normal roots, there was a very ugly baby. But obviously it's not a baby. The skin color is as brown as the dirt that it erupted from, courtesy of Lockhart, and instead of fingers and toes, there were actual roots. What's worse, far worse, is its cry. It's not even a cry. It's more akin to a banshee's wail mixed with the screams of a normal human child, and boy did it hurt. Harry's werewolf ears did not like that at all, and no matter how he, Phoebus, or Adam tried, the pain wouldn't leave their ears. They weren't the only ones.

Lockhart dropped the thing to cover his own ears, but that proved to be a mistake when the thing hit the ground, and as a result, started to wail even more now. It was getting to the point of deafening now. Harry can't think. Harry can't speak. For the love of God, someone make that thing shut up!

At last, when Harry thought he couldn't take it any more, the screaming finally ceased. The ringing in his ears were still painful, in fact he's pretty sure his ears were bleeding, but eventually they subsided, and Harry could at last look to see what had happened. It was easy enough to deduce: Snape stood in the doorway to Greenhouse 2, his wand out, and Harry smelt blood. Not human blood, more of an earthy and dense blood.

"Professor," Snape greeted in his normal passive monotone, though his beady black eyes held a fiery fury. Goldilocks, who looked just as shocked as his students, didn't even acknowledge his savior at first. Finally, after what seemed like a good five minutes, he recovered well enough and straightened himself up.

"Hello, Snape," the blonde greeted, though not as confident as he would have been under different circumstances. "I was just showing the students the dangers of...ah..." Harry literally gaped. Did Professor Lockhart not even know what type of plant he almost killed everyone with?!

"Perhaps you should discuss your lack of Herbology knowledge with Headmaster Dumbledore," Snape suggested, though it was definitely more like an order. Lockhart, to everyone's surprise, laughed.

"Surely, I don't think that's necessary-" But Lockhart was cut off by a black birch wand to his throat. "I'll just be on my way." And with that, Lockhart swooshed out of the door, his entire face painted in red. Satisfied, Snape turned to the class.

"For your information, that was a Mandrake root. Very similar to humans, Mandrakes possess a deafening cry that will only develop as they mature. Mature Mandrakes' cries will immediately kill a person, while a baby Mandrake, such as the one you witnessed," Snape paused to point to the floor where the baby's corpse lay, "will, in the worst case scenario, make a person deaf. If you still have your hearing then raise your hand." Thankfully, all the students did so. "Good. Moving on, the properties of Mandrakes are anything but deadly. Their mature forms serve as a primary ingredient in the Mandrake Restorative Draught, which is the cure for total petrification. Any questions?" When nobody responded, Snape dismissed the lot, then walked quickly out of the door, probably to make sure that Lockhart doesn't step foot near the Greenhouses again.

"Well, that was an interesting lesson. What do you think, Draco?" Harry turned to his friend, but surprisingly, his friend was still quiet and just walked away from the group.

"What's got his wand in a knot?" Phoebus asked pointedly, "Is he still sour about not being Seeker? That was weeks ago."

"No, he's not," Adam answered, studying the Malfoy heir carefully, "His face was moreso of a contemplative one, not a jealous one. His posture has more slouch in it, he wasn't even close to paying attention in class today, and he's started the habit of rubbing his temples. He's not jealous, he's worried. Stressed about something." Both the Slytherins looked at their fellow werewolf with awe and somewhat fear.

"Have you been stalking Malfoy or something?" Phoebus asked in amazement. Adam shook his head.

"I'm just really good at observing things."

"Well, so am I," Harry argued, "But I can't tell that much just from one glance or something." Adam only shrugged to show his indifference to the matter.

"Call it a gift, then."

But that was a few hours ago. Now Harry and the Slytherin quidditch team are out on the field, preparing for their first game against Gryffindor. Maybe he can talk to Draco now, during practice. As usual, they start with several jogs around the pitch.

"Come on, move it!" Flint shouted as he led the team, followed by Adrian Pucey, Miles Bletchley, and then the newbies. "You're not on this team to sit around, keep going!" Only a couple more feet and then it was warm-ups, Harry mused to encourage himself. Despite his previous werewolf training, Flint is making Harry run for his money, and that's saying a lot. Meanwhile, Draco was the last one running, and it didn't look like he was going to catch up. Harry wasn't the only one to notice this.

"Move it, Malfoy!" Flint called, looking behind him. "If you're last, then you have to run an extra lap!" This got Draco's attention, thankfully, and soon he was running as fast as Harry. This was Harry's chance.

"Look, Draco, I don't mean to be rude," Harry started, his heavy breathing interfering with his speech, "But what's with you? You've been acting strange for the last couple of weeks, even more strange than normal." Harry added that last jibe to hopefully at least get a retort, but Draco only glared.

"You wouldn't understand, Stidolph." Harry did his best to raise his eyebrows at his classmate.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "Something happening at home or something?"

"I said you wouldn't understand!" Draco snapped, making Harry stop for a little bit. Okay, that didn't quite work out so well. Maybe later, when the pounding of his lungs wasn't interrupting his thinking process.

Unfortunately, his luck didn't get any better. Despite his attempts to talk to Draco, he's always shut down by the blonde boy, and was even shoved to the side at one point. That was when Harry officially backed off, and Harry isn't one to give up. He would know, he still likes Leclair after all this time, and after all the things she's done against him. Harry relayed what happened to Phoebus and the others at dinner, causing more worry amongst them.

"Draco's aura has certainly changed," Selene affirmed, "Something is truly bothering him. And the fact that he won't talk to anyone is even more worrisome."

"Well, his dad used to be a Death Eater," Melanie piped up, "Maybe it's got something to do with that." Phoebus stared at Melanie with indignance and disdain.

"How? In case you haven't noticed, the war is over."

"Of course I know that! It was just an idea." Before the two of them could start on an argument, the aforementioned boy approached the dinner table, a solemn, sour look on his face.

Draco sat next to Harry, and stabbed at his potatoes before shoving them into his mouth. Unsure of whether to talk any more to the boy or not, the rest resumed eating, talking of gentle, general topics in fear of provoking their friend.

**A/N:**

** So, what could be concerning Draco? If some of you read the official book, then maybe you could guess as to what it is, but for now, I won't say much. Now, if you will please R&R, and tell others of this story, I would very much appreciate it. Cheers!**

**~ Galatea Griffiths**


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